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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30106311">Bolt for Freedom</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dionysus_lover/pseuds/Dionysus_lover'>Dionysus_lover</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Joker (DCU) × OC [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, John Wick (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abusive Parents, Canon-Typical Violence, Exhibitionism, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Knifeplay, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:47:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>28,089</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30106311</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dionysus_lover/pseuds/Dionysus_lover</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A "John Wick" - "The Dark Knight" crossover </p><p>John Wick is sent to Gotham when Tarasov's money mysteriously disappears. Some say that a certain Joker burned them, along with the rest of the mafia swag. Someone also says that he kidnapped a young woman, a girl from the Ruska Roma. However, Katya isn't one who seems to be easily captured... John can't imagine what really awaits him in Gotham City.</p><p>Now with a beautiful art work by @playddumb, find them on Tumblr</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joker (DCU)/Original Female Character(s), Joker/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Joker (DCU) × OC [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688860</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm not a English mothertongue so please be gentile with me.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>November 2008</strong>
</p><p>"Were you looking for me, Viggo?"</p><p>John stands in the doorway like a good soldier. The office is in dim light, New York seems quite dark and gloomy lately. Gray clouds dominate the sky, it rains every now and then. Viggo's is the only office in town where smoking is still allowed and he smokes; the ash is now also scattered on the desk, around the vodka-stained bottle.<br/>He looks up, gestures for him to wait. "Otlichno. Do svidaniya Lev(1)" he says in Russian, before finally placing the receiver on the table nervously. "We have problems, John" Viggo says, gesturing for his man to come in and close the door. "The Chechen is gone and my money with him. Now <em>you</em> John go to Gotham and solve this fucking situation for me."</p><p>John frowns slightly, not so much to let an emotion shine through, but enough to express his doubt. "Gotham?"</p><p>Tarasov nods gravely, getting up and looking out over the city. Gorgeous New York. Everything was simpler when dealing with business in your city, but to grow up you need to be reckless, spread your wings towards new horizons. "Yes, John. I had some business over there. The Chechen was taking my place."</p><p>"Will anyone have any news about it?"</p><p>"Indeed... Lev Vinogradov says they cut him into pieces, fed it to the dogs and burned our money."<br/>Both are silent. This time John is not sure if Viggo is serious, but when his boss turns his eyes are so grim and pissed that they eliminate any uncertainty: it seems that the Chechen has really been butchered.</p><p>"Who are '<em>them</em>' exactly?"<br/>Tarasov opens a drawer and with disappointment throws an ocher paper folder on the desk, points it to his man and tells him to leaf through it. Photos. Only photos, dozens and dozens of photographs always portray a guy, dressed in purple, with a disturbing and at the same time ridiculous clown make-up on his face.<br/>If John weren't a killer, he'd give himself permission to laugh. "It's a joke?" he asks, flipping through pages and pages of photos: the guy is absurd, he carries firearms as if they were toys, holds a bazuca on his back as if it weighs nothing, has a jacket filled with explosives. He is surrounded by men. He seems to recognize some of them, some he has seen in New York.</p><p>Viggo snorts. "No John, that's the problem. Gotham is on fire: this madman has thrown the city into utter chaos, the local mafia is gone, the police station is blown up, Gotham State Hospital is blown up."</p><p>John shakes his head without understanding. "The High Table would never have allowed such unrest."</p><p>"This is another problem, John. Gotham is not under the jurisdiction of the High Table. The city is defined... well, it is written here: Independent Continental Island of Gotham City. The Continental is not under the jurisdiction of the High Table. Nothing is. Look" he says, pulling out an extra photo. It depicts a girl, young, long dark hair, a huge smile and a gun close to her cheek. There is something disturbing in her gaze, but John just can't understand what it is about her. "This is Katya Vinogradov, Lev's only daughter. She disappeared in Gotham six months ago, he says she was kidnapped. He turned to me, I turned to Belcikov who talked to Na'stenka, at the High Table and you know what they did? Fucking nothing, that's what they did. She evaporated poof, like she was air." Viggo raises his finger and points it at John: he knows he is not threatening, but by the laws of the Tablet he can boast some authority over his man and that man has been trained since childhood to that life. "I want a quick and clean job, John. You go over there, get rid of this subspecies of clown and get told where my money is."<br/>John obeys.</p><p>It rains in Gotham when John arrives. He feels like it's been raining all his life, but he can't pay attention to it: he has a job to think about. The trip had been strange, he had gone through all the documents left him by Viggo and Gotham had appeared as the craziest city he had ever worked in and the proof that Winston had always been right: rules, rules are what makes us human. John was more and more convinced. In that city there were vigilantes on the loose, criminals apparently without purpose, a psychiatric hospital that seemed to be run by insane and incompetent... A disaster of place, the playground of criminals, an island of madness. And this Joker, the king of madmen. Yet there had to be a pattern, or he wouldn't be able to completely dismantle the criminal organizations of the city. John almost never asked himself too many questions when he had to take care of a job, but that left him doubtful. How to catch an elusive man? That Joker didn't behave like a human being, but like a god of chaos, a dog chasing a car, a clown without a circus.</p><p>"Mr. Wick, we've arrived" the taxi driver says and John looks out the window.</p><p>"We're not in the city center."</p><p>"There is no Continental in town center."<br/>John snorts and nods. He grabs the briefcase and walks out into the rain regardless of the bad weather. "Good luck, Mr. Wick" adds the driver. John nods, as always. The cold evening air touches his short, bristly beard, and it's pleasant: he likes to feel that cool on his skin, it reminds him that he too is alive, he is human. The Continental, at the gates of Gotham, stretches its shadow over him like a long black cloak, like a vampire hungry for his devotion; a pact of blood, a bond of life, that was what awaited the members of the Hight Table and all, all of them, belonged to the High Table.</p><p>Across the street a couple walks, a man and a woman hugging under an umbrella, he holds a beagle's leash. For a moment his heart bounces in his chest. It is dangerous to allow oneself to look out on the real world, the one that survives on the surface, in the light of the sun: he is fine in the dark, where no one can notice him. He likes to go unnoticed. The couple disappear around a corner and John hurries into the hotel. He walks into is the whitest Continental he has ever seen and for the first time in a long time he feels almost amazed.</p><p>"John Wick" a voice calls him. The manager of the Independent Gotham Continental welcomes him by extending a hand and smiling with sincere satisfaction. "I was wondering when I would have the honor of hosting you. Please take a seat. Will you stay a long time?"</p><p>John looks around briefly. They all seem to be strangers, even if in his world they all know each other a little. No one in Gotham goes unnoticed in the shadows when everyone is a bat. Literally...</p><p>"I don't know, not yet. For now, three nights."</p><p>"Very good" the manager says. "We at the Independent Gotham Continental assure our guests the same hospitality as the other Mr. Wick hotels, but our services are not bound to the Hight Table. We do not condemn the work carried out within the hotel. We do not have the right."</p><p>John doesn't move. "I'd like a room with a city view."</p><p>The director nods. "Do you need anything else? Any service is available at every hour, here."</p><p>"Yes" John replies "I would like to meet the tailor and... the sommelier tomorrow. First thing in the morning".</p><p>The manager nods again, leads the way and accompanies him into a secondary hall: behind the stone gray counter, illuminated by small silver headlights, two women greet him with the same cold smile. "Miss White and Miss Reth will assist you with your every request, at any time. Is there anything else I can do?"</p><p>"I wish I had a copy of all the newspapers for the last... Seventy-two hours."</p><p>On the director's face, for a fraction of a second, terror appears like an ice mask that quickly passes through him, then his eyes return to being expressionless. John has always been told that his ability to read people makes him different, special; he never asked to be, he just wants to finish his job as quickly as possible. The atmosphere of Gotham is different from that of New York, there it seems everyone is very little aware of the criminal underworld that could engulf them at any moment. There everyone feels free to be afraid. John knows he can't handle it. "It's all in the hotel lobby, you'll find the newspapers on the magazine shelf."<br/>The manager accompanies John once more and gives him the key to room 13 on the twenty-first floor. A tag is attached to the key which reads in Latin: dura lex sed lex. The law is strict, but it is the law for everyone. John almost smiles.<br/>"If you are here for him" the director adds, in an apparently grave but vaguely intrigued tone, "you have to be ready".</p><p>"He's a lonely man in a city that doesn't belong to anyone" John replies superficially. He has no time for such nonsense. No one has ever questioned his methods: as long as he respects the rules, no one can tell him anything.<br/>The manager looks frowning, John sighs when they look at each other and squeezes the newspapers tightly in his fingers.</p><p>"But what if he wasn't a man?"<br/>John has no idea what the manager means. He turns around, finds the elevator at first glance and goes to his room.</p><p>Harvey Dent must have been a good boy. A shameful end, his one. John never cared about politics. Actually he can't remember anything that, beyond his work, ever really interested him. He continues to fiddle with the knife, opens and closes the blade, opens and closes it again. "<em><strong>Masked terrorists attacked and robbed Gotham Central Bank. Police find the gang's corpses, but no trace of the loot</strong></em>" John reads softly. The dude likes to play. He is a seemingly simple man: take the money and get rid of those who want it back. But why get hired to take out Batman? And then, later, why not killing him for real? "<strong><em>Joker, the terrorist threatens mayor and district attorney. Gordon does not intend to surrender</em></strong>." The commissioner is a stubborn man, John has to admit. He would never allow Joker to escape with the loot, he chases him to the end of the world. "<em><strong>Joker's capture doesn't last: police headquarters exploded, culprits are sought among corrupt cops</strong></em>." Ah, the police. He feels almost tenderness: people have this confidence in the institutions... As if their little heroes weren't also owned by the Table. And here comes the problem: Joker escapes, but he doesn't leave the city. He recovers Lau, presumably the money, hands everything over to the mafia, but no. No, that's not enough for him. He gets rid of the Chechen and Maroni, he keeps all the money for himself, he is done, he can escape. The Joker, on the other hand, stays. He plays with Gotham. He plays with the city vigilante, the masked man, Batman: the outlaw who doesn't kill. He's admirable, really, but John doesn't care about these cheap heroes, he keeps wondering why. Why does he stay? Joker is captured again, but never reaches Arkham Asylum: the car is attacked again, the helicopter and escort are derailed and catch fire, the asylum ambulance overturns and he escapes again, but John is sure that he is still in town, with a lot of money whose fate he has not yet decided. But why? Why does he stay in Gotham? Maybe because he's only safe in Gotham... The bedside clock strikes two in the morning, his ticking echoes in the room and John is tired, he yawns and begins to undress. It's time to sleep, busy days await him.</p><p> </p><p>-*-*-*-</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Katya runs down the hall, locks the door to her room and starts rummaging in the closet. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>- It's here, it must be here - she keeps thinking. There is a caliber 9 in the white box at the bottom of her cabinet, given to her by Ivan for her thirteenth birthday. She had always liked shooting out of the window. The footsteps approach, she swears and sweats, her hands tremble. Boom, boom, boom, her father's footsteps. Katya wants to scream, but now is not the time. The gun, where is the gun?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>-You will not find it, malyshka (2)- Lev laughs, his guttural voice is that of the devil, who calls her to hell. - You know what happens now, right? Papa dolzhen tebya nakazat (3)'- and Katya hears the clink of his black belt buckle ever closer, closer, behind the door, the knob turns, the door opens...”</em>
</p><p>Katya wakes up. A drop of cold sweat slides down her temple from her forehead, marks her face and dries on the pillow. The pillowcase is filthy, dirty with any fluid: tears, sweat and blood, eternally mixed. It's not that different from the bed she slept in when Lev punished her: a daughter of her Ruska Roma knows the taste of blood between her split lips since childhood, especially when her father has big plans for her. Her dark eyes fall: she vaguely notices the crack in the old concrete ceiling and the dusty cobweb that falls along the coldest corner of the room and floats like a white veil. Something creaks, but that room is always full of annoying noise and cold drafts, she's used to it now. Maybe she should stop sleeping naked. Katya has stopped crying for months: only the nightmares are left, but slowly she is erasing them, like empty words on scribbled pages. It makes no sense to live in the past, there is a whole world on which she finally has the feeling of being able to reach out and grab it, finally playing without rules and without restrictions, without laws or morals. Finally she no longer has to worry about hiding her gun: it lies on the bedside table, perfectly in view. Some women display their jewelry, Katya likes bullets. For a moment she wonders what would happen if she shot herself; when she was a child Lev had always told her and repeated that, once she grew up, she would marry a man of honor and she would live respecting her family name. "Do you want to bet?" she whispers, thinking she'll bring the gun to her temple and feel the freezing cold of metal against her skin. God, if it isn't fucking funny. She stands up, puts on the first long shirt she finds on the floor and grabs the gun.<br/>The penthouse is incredibly bright despite being late at night: the lights of the city, its street lamps and its advertising signs, invade the monochromatic walls. She walks barefoot on the rough metal of the upstairs walkway and reaches the stairs, she knows she is silent, but she knows she isn't silent enough. Everything makes her believe she is alone. A police siren echoes in the silence of the night. She has recently detonated so many that she almost wants to grab a sniper rifle and perch on the roof, aim cars as if they were targets: police lights are easy to spot, like perfect little targets. She smiles: it is very comfortable to think about all the things done in the last few days, it had been exciting. The city continued to burn, it was beautiful.</p><p><em>Clink</em>.</p><p>With a snap, Katya raises the gun, points it into the darkness, loaded and ready to fire, her eyes flashing in the shadows. Her lips tighten, she holds her breath.</p><p>"What do you wanna do with that gun, doll?" he answers.</p><p>She knows that voice well and lowers the weapon slowly, letting it slide down her side and putting the safety on again. He advances. An intermittent flash finally illuminates his face: the oily paint is slipping away from his cheeks almost completely, only colored spots remain. His crimson smile actually hides only an amused grin. "Ready to play, already? A little late to gamble with your gun, hm?" Joker says, licks his scars and looks the young woman up and down. He's incredibly relaxed, compared to when and how she met him, as if he finally decided to take a break. The suspenders fall on his hips, the shirt has some open buttons. He is studying her: his mahogany irises travel along the curves of her body, observing her tense nerves, her muscles, the imperceptible movements of her shoulders that rise with each breath. He approaches again, she stays still for him. Jack doesn't like sudden and abrupt movements, so Katya looks down at the gun for a moment and places it slowly on the floor: she knows she doesn't need it with him, and even if she ever wanted to, she understood from the beginning that it would have been useless. When Katya looks up at him again he is close enough for her to see the shape of his lean muscles through the hexagonal diamond pattern of the shirt. He leans forward towards her, looks pretty serious and frowns at his brow for a moment, his eyes hiding in the dark spot that surrounds them and he tilts her head slightly. There are things about him that perhaps not even he has yet understood, that he probably doesn't care to investigate, even if he is a curious type, he always has been. Extremely intelligent men are also extremely curious. Then, he grabs her: his fingers tighten around her neck, but it's nothing she isn't used to by now. She follows him, she lets herself be dominated and he dominates, always: his hands are strong, if she wanted to, he could probably kill her with a single hand and she would let him. Katya follows the movement of his arm as he lifts her up again, standing in front of him, her eyes in his eyes and Jack takes a step forward without ever blinking. "A penny for your thoughts, princess" he whispers and for an imperceptible and fleeting second his gaze falls on her lips.</p><p>"I was thinking of a joke..." she replies and then smiles, thinking about it again and closing her eyes, then slowly licking her lips. God, Jack is so damn sexy.</p><p>He smiles. "<em>Ah</em>, there's that beautiful smile of yours! Are you feeling playful tonight, doll?"<br/>Her eyes shine like distant stars in a dark sky and she nods with a childish smile. "Do you think you can handle it? <em>Yes</em>?" Katya nods again, he licks his lips like a hungry predator. "Open that mouth, bunny." And she opens it.</p><p>His tongue is warm and wet, his scars are rough on her skin, making her vibrate like a violin string in the silence of the night. He pushes her against the cold glass, pulls a knife from his pocket and smiles at her seeing her pupils dilate in front of the shining blade; the first time he had shown her his deadly friend Katy had proved to be quite a combative little girl... Oh, that had been funny. Holding her by the collar, Jack slides the blade onto her shirt, opening it halfway apart. "Hm, ready for daddy" he grins and for the first time drops the knife where she might even be able to grab it. That night, they have sex against the shiny glass of the penthouse.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>(1) Good, goodbye Lev<br/>(2) child, baby<br/>(3) Daddy must punish you</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>May 2008</strong>
</p><p>"Fuck you, dad!" Katya screamed again. Her back still burned from the lashes and her father's buckle was stained with blood. He didn't answer: he grabbed her by her shirt and forced her to get up. The girl stumbled, she fell again, he screamed and forced her to get up, pushing her against the wall. Katya screamed in pain. "I don't want to meet your shitty friends!"</p><p>Lev laughed. His breath smelled of old vodka, his beard was unkempt and dirty, he was disgusting in every respect, a man even the devil would gladly spit back to earth to avoid seeing him. A pig on two legs. "O moy rebenok (1), you will do what I say, or else I will have you meet them crawling on all fours like a sow." Lev let her go and Katya slid against the wall, drowning in her tears.<br/>Since she returned to Gotham, when she turned sixteen and after ten years of unbridled training in New York's Ruska Roma, her father had hit her. The first and only time she had defended herself Lev had filled her with so many blows that she hadn't been able to move for a week. Katya was his best bargaining chip, she knew she was: the hungry eyes of his partners, like skinny and angry wolves, always stared at her, wondering who would be the first lucky one to abuse her when she turned eighteen. She knew she would kill the first one who tried to get close, she was good with weapons. The Director had taught her well. She was a tempered girl, so she had called her, she was one of the few who, instead of dancing, had chosen to fight. Lev Vinogradov, however, was a man of one hundred and two kilograms for almost two meters tall and Katya was a thin, agile girl, but too slim to be able to avoid the violent grip of her father. She and that damned belt had come to know each other well. And two days after her eighteenth birthday, that same belt had communicated her destiny: with the sign of the metal buckle engraved in the flesh her father had informed her that the next morning the Chechen would come to visit him and that he would be extremely nice to meet her. Limping, Katya walked back to her room. The gun that Tarasov had given her was gone, which was a real shame, because a handmade mother-of-pearl grip was difficult to replicate, but the girl didn't need elegant weapons. Under the mattress she had stowed her secret weapon: drum revolver, eight rounds, already loaded. With extreme fatigue and stinging pain, she had put on her combat suit: bulletproof vest, leather shorts and belt. She had been preparing everything for days. In a backpack she had stashed all the money she had managed to steal from the safe. It was time to escape. Katya slipped out the window - the gutter would help her slide along the wall and reach the fire escape stairs. The night was dark and silent, her father's men were tired, leaning lazily against the facade of the building: Katya moved quickly, sliding barefoot on the metal, clinging with sweaty hands whose palms were scratching in contact with the iron frosty of the staircase. The two men talking in Russian and smoking, gesticulating awkwardly and cursing God from time to time didn't notice her until they heard the dry thud of her feet on the sidewalk and her groan of pain after finally leaving.</p><p>"Stop! Chem ty zanimayesh'sya? (2)" one of them screamed in alarm. His eyes met her alarmed gaze for a moment, only to see her disappear quickly. Katya began to run. The air of the city was humid and dusty, the concrete on her bare feet was rough and hot, it burned her skin, and her heart was pounding, her eyes were already feet of tears, but that time... That time she knew she had fled to never return. Throwing herself into the street without fear, Katya fell against the dashboard of a car stopped at the intersection on the other side of the road: the driver cursed something at her, but when the girl gritted her teeth and pointed the gun straight in the middle of the front he slipped out of the car without having her to repeat it again. She sprinted to drive. The Russians behind her followed with a couple of motorcycles: <em>fuck</em>, the car she had just stolen was real shit, a rusty gearbox with automatic transmission, a fucking '98 Toyota, some kind of wreck on four wheels. The Russians' Kawasakys were following her, stalking her insistently: one of them managed to hit the car, causing one of her taillights to explode and Katya swerved sharply. One of the two of them completely overturned on the road. The other, behind her, accelerated again. It was a race against time: if Katya hadn't managed to sow him quickly they would soon have tracked her down and this time her father would have been careful not to let her leave her room. No, he probably would have tied her to the bed until her back broke. Katya had soon reached the industrial zone of the city: this was the perfect place to escape the law undisturbed, and Gotham wasn't famous for its sense of justice. No, only her father would have unleashed the dogs to find her and he wouldn't have succeeded. An alley caught her attention: wide enough to squeeze inside with the shitty Toyota, Katya drove through it at high speed. There, slipping on the dirty asphalt of the alley, the girl finally lost control of the car. The car skidded violently and got stuck in the alley as she was thrown to the ground out of the vehicle. For a moment the world seemed dark, hazy. Distant lights floated like insects in the night, the sound of sirens and horns chased her like desperate cries, the roar of an engine... A motorbike screeching... A voice screaming her name. <em>Don't move</em>, Katya had to tell her again once more. That baboon didn't want to kill her, unlike her, his job was to bring her home alive, so Lev paid them for having her back. She smiled. "Obernis', Katya! (3)" the man screamed, and she burst into a thunderous laugh: she slowly shook the loaded pistol in her hand, ready to fire.</p><p>"Want to hear a joke, Stayne?" she screamed. The guy didn't move, she stopped but didn't look threatening, despite her holding a gun in her hand. With a sudden move she turned, raised the gun and began to shoot, drilling the man's body, reducing him to a mannequin full of holes. "Oh no, I don't think you would get it anymore."</p><p><em>Hyena</em>. The laughter of a hyena broke the silence. Katya didn't know that this would be the thunder before the storm: she had just escaped and her path had already crossed with her new future. A man appeared, at least he seemed to be a man: a strange disfigured face with a strange yellow smile approached her and Katya was tired, hurt, confused. Her head thundered and the echo of the gun rang in her ears. Her adrenaline left her body and she let go of weakness, leaning once again against the wall, unaware of the pain that still coursed through her skin. He walked over. He didn't look menacing and she closed her eyes for a moment. "I have to say I prefer knives, but... that was too much fun, it made my day, really" he said, licking his red upper lip, red as bright blood. Sky-black eyes studied her with morbid attention. There was something disturbing about him, something wild, but Katya wasn't afraid.</p><p>She nodded weakly and smiled. "I needed a good punchline to hang out in style" she said, laughing lightly and dropping the gun to the floor. He approached again, quite fascinated by the unusual situation and she finally managed to focus on the image: tall, ash-blonde hair at the root of the skin but dyed a strange dirty green, his face was white, his eyes surrounded by two spots of black paint and his mouth... It wasn't just a red tint around the lips, it followed a precise pattern on the skin, something deeper and chilling, but so different from any man she had never seen. Not even in Ruska Roma there were men so scarred. Her pupils dilated at that strange vision of his, captured by the oppressive presence of that man, who in a few steps was now all around her, sucking the air and stopping time.</p><p>"Well, <em>hel-lo</em> beautiful... and what a funny little thing you are" he said, his tongue still sliding over his open lips and his eyes moving fast over her as he caged her between her arms.</p><p>"One could call me that" Katya replied laughing and leaning her neck against the wall "maybe not beautiful, but funny... yes". With those last words, she had gone limp and passed out, closing her eyes and falling into oblivion.</p><p> </p><p>-*-*-*-</p><p> </p><p>The first thing Katya felt when she woke up was... pain. She was tied up. Her ankles tied with duct tape, directly to her bare skin, her wrists tied in front of her chest against each other by a stiff band and were scratched until they nearly bleed. Where she was, she had no idea, how she got there, not even. Memories had to wait. The moment she opened her eyes, tied up like that, she thought she had been found by her father's men, but why would they take her to a place she didn't know? <em>Well</em>, she told herself, <em>perhaps so as not to let me escape ever again, hang me up like a salami at the mercy of all those pigs, probably including Lev...</em> A sense of nausea invaded her, but her priority was to escape. Collecting her ideas (but only those, because there was nothing left of her things, and she was left with the black leather shorts and the tank top), Katya stood up: breaking the straps was easy for a fighter like her, she just had to exploit a coordinated movement to free the wrists and did so also with the duct tape around the ankles. Just when she finally got up from the floor soiled with her own fluids, the door to the filthy club opened and a man she had never seen walked in, with a big, full bag in his hand; that guy didn't have time to notice the punch on his jugular and the sudden knee on the right side, much less the elbow on the back of his neck that made him lose consciousness. Just as she knelt to inspect his purse before running away the chill feel of a blade from behind stroked her neck like a promise of death.</p><p>"Now doll, this is not the way to express your gratitude for saving you, hm."</p><p>That voice. That serious, calculated tone, vaguely ironic but in a gloomy way. Memories. Memories surfaced. That odd-looking man who had appeared from the shadows as sirens approached and his father's cars patrolled the area looking for her...</p><p>"Do you work for my father?" she whispered in a firm but weak voice. He laughed rather amused.</p><p>"I never work for anyone. Come on, little chick, stand up slowly" he intimidated her and his knife was replaced by the muzzle of a gun between her bare shoulder blades. Katya showed her hands in surrender and stood up carefully: if he didn't work for her father, then why..? "Turn around" he added and she complied. "Hi beautiful." He smiled. Yes, that mouth... It all came back and she smiled faintly.</p><p>"I hadn't finished pissing myself yet, apparently" she commented with a hint of dark humor "you should teach your men manners, they should knock if they want to get in."</p><p>He grinned and lowered the weapon, not moving. "Quite drolly doll you are, aren't ya?" he commented. "Are you having problems with your father?"</p><p>Katya sighed, lowered her hands and shrugged as he paced around her like some kind of wolf ready to play with his prey, approaching to smell her skin. A kind of man she had never dealt with. "Yes, I am having... problems" she replied.</p><p>He appeared again in front of her, extremely close: every detail of his face was a world to discover, almost invisible to the naked eye hidden behind that layer of thick paint, but she didn't get distracted and looked him in the eye with a disarming tranquillity. "Well it looks like we already have a lot in common" he commented, licking his lips, studying her carefully, looking for an apparent weakness. During the night she had pissed on herself, probably due to fainting, yet she wasn't ashamed to look like this: she was shabby, hurt, tired and covered in fluids, blood and dust. Interesting.<br/>"You can go" he said. Katya frowned without understanding, and he chuckled. "<em>Or</em>, you can listen to my proposal, accept it and... Get a clean pair of panties, first thing" he chuckled.</p><p>Katya flared up initially, but then she thought that after all she had nothing more to lose, she had already abandoned everything and then... she knew how to take care of herself, if she didn't want to hold back, she would find a way to escape again. She always ran away. Still, that man... That strange, handsome criminal, oh he was one of a kind, she could see it in his face. Before she could answer, curious and hungry, he took a step towards her and when she didn't move he pushed her abruptly against her closed door with his hands on her soft hips. Katya groaned in pain and Joker frowned for a moment.</p><p>"If I accept your proposal, can you also medicate me?" she hissed. He wasted no time, grabbed her and spun her hard, slamming her face into the door. As she wriggled in his tight grip, he drew out the double blade and pierced the undershirt, tearing it in the middle: the square marks of a men's belt buckle covered her back along the spine dorsal of her. Joker gritted his teeth, he had always hated fathers.</p><p>Katya laughed "Like what you see?" she said and Joker clicked her tongue, as if he didn't know exactly what to say. He then he let her go.</p><p>"Bathroom's upstairs" he murmured, before opening the door and leaving her alone, with one of his men still unconscious and lying on the floor.</p><p>Katya ventured upstairs, into the bathroom, where she spent a full fifteen minutes under the shower until it turned cold and she was forced out. With the only bar of soap available she cleaned up any stain and then inspected what was left of her clothes: absolutely nothing. She laughed. <em>What a fucking situation</em>, she thought. It was the strangest and funniest thing that had ever happened to her since she left Ruska Roma, it was almost like living for real. All she found in the bathroom was a white but paint-stained towel, a pair of boxers with holes in a drawer, and a gray flannel shirt hanging behind the door. She put on those clothes and went out, going back downstairs, sitting down at the table. The guy had woken up and was looking at her with deep hatred, rubbing his cup, tossing her the bag, babbling about her as his boss had specifically ordered him not to twist a single hair. Before she could say anything, the door opened and the Joker walked in again and chased the other man out.</p><p>"Now, doll, show me that nice back of yours and we can talk about your, uh, hiring."</p><p>Katya turned without asking further questions and undid her shirt, baring her back and sitting astride a chair, waiting in silence.</p><p>Joker was... yes, impressed. That girl must have been a fool or a psycho, but in both cases she always seemed to be perfectly aware of herself: ah, the naivety of her youth! He would have loved breaking it piece by piece and reassembling her whole as he pleased, yes, it gave him a deep satisfaction, a sweet sense of concreteness... an omnipotence that only he had. Her abused back was a white table for him on which he would soon weave his designs.</p><p>"It's a funny world we live in..." he whispered, grabbing the disinfectant and pouring the alcohol on the girl's back, wiping it violently. "So, I'm offering you a permanent job, let's say you'd be, hm, married to your job doll, until death do you part." Joker laughed.</p><p>"What do you do? Drugs? It would be boring... Organ trafficking? I'm not a very good - <em>ouch</em>, that burn - surgeon, but I manage. Kidnapping children? I don't know about you, but - <em>ah!</em> - I find that children are annoying."</p><p>Joker laughed heartily. "Eh eh, I like your style. But personally I prefer to kidnap women" he whispered in her ear, before leaving the ghost of her bitter breath on her bare neck. Katya trembled, but with pleasure. "No doll, I'm in charge of setting the world on fire."</p><p>She smiled, feeling his hands withdraw, and lifted her shirt to cover herself again and turned around. Joker studied her face, young and fresh, but in her eyes shone that light, that hunger, that desire to burn and destroy, that need... yes, to shape her, that would truly be one of the greatest pleasures of his life. "Sounds like a lot of fun" she said. "And... Well I don't have much to do, nor a place to stay... I just need clothes and weapons I suppose."<br/>Joker licked his lips, leaning forward. Sounds like a plan then, he thought. With a nod of his head he motioned to look in the bag. Katya got up and took the bag, lifting it and pouring its contents on the table: there were her things, the money, the gun, the few clothes... "Ah! Luckily the jacket was saved! My favorite, really" she exclaimed bringing it to her chest. Joker continued to watch her closely as she ignored the wads of bills left in her purse.</p><p>"Do you - ah - look better in the doll bag?" he whispered curiously, letting her move almost freely under her watchful gaze.</p><p>Katya shook her head, but she looked again and pulled out a rich handful of money, turning it over in her palm. "These? Oh yeah... I don't really need them. I hate this money. It's what my father accepted to sell me, I'd love to burn it" she said and laughed. His eyes shone with a strange, fascinating light and she felt herself shaking again. How could he be so magnetic? His entire presence was... intoxicating.</p><p>Joker got up from the chair, walked over to her again. He wondered where that bunny came from, already so perfect for his games. Oh, he would obviously find out. She mumbled something about buying a new sofa after she wet it overnight, but he didn't listen to her. There was potential in that girl, he would exploit it, squeeze every last drop of her, he would free her and chained her to him, she was already his from the first moment he heard her laugh. Joker smiled, showing all his teeth. "Welcome to my organization, baby doll."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>(1) Oh my baby<br/>(2) What are you doing?<br/>(3) Turn around, Katya!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>May 2008</strong>
</p><p>Three days passed. Three days safe, in that penthouse in Gotham's industrial estate, while time outside passed without her being able to do anything to avoid it and, although she lacked nothing, she was bored to death and anguish began to find her: why was she locked in there? Joker had gone out, without adding anything else, leaving her hanging by that thread waiting for something that hadn't arrived. Every morning she found food, she had a handful of clean clothes and a gun: loaded again, eight bullets. But the door was always closed. The first day she tried to open it and she couldn't. She had waited: her back was still sore, her feet still burned, so Katya had spent the day in the bed upstairs, but no one had returned. The second day she had knocked, she had screamed, and she had repeated to herself that she hadn't left her father's house to find herself a prisoner somewhere else. On the third day, her anguish had devoured her. She had thought of breaking the glass, running away, but there was no window sill, no balcony, just the world moving on without her, and her frustration. She had thought of him, of the Joker, she had dreamed of unloading that gun on him as she had done on her father's man, but she had only been able to feel how... wrong it was. There was more, there had to be more: setting the world on fire, there was nothing Katya craved more than that. She hated Gotham. She hated all those disgusting people, everything they wanted, all they cared about was money and Joker didn't seem to be that kind of man. But she was closed there for three days, with no one, without knowing where she was and what she was waiting for, without knowing who to trust and... she needed to hear something true. Eventually she took action.</p><p>There was no lock on the door, but there were hinges on the inside, rusted hinges because of time and humidity of the enclosed space. The brittle metal would crack. Katya grabbed the gun firmly, aimed at her target and fired. The echo of the shot echoed throughout the building. From behind the door she heard swearing. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, you little bitch?!" Joker's man thundered, finally opening the door: he tried to grab her, reaching out a hand threateningly and brushing a lock of dark hair that he would have pulled hard if she hadn't responded with equal violence. She was tired of everyone trying to stop her. Katya fired, this time to kill. The bullet pierced the brain of that man and she went out the door.</p><p>Everything was completely dark, her sight wasn't ready to get used to that sudden change of light and she couldn't see. The sharp point of a knife brushed her side, cutting off the undershirt and leaning against her bare skin. Katya stopped. A gloved hand slipped down her sweaty arm, settling on her shoulder and squeezing her tight, digging his fingers into her collarbone and making her hiss in pain.</p><p>"That's not a nice way to treat who's taking care of ya, doll" he said. The Joker behind her gripped her harder and harder, her knife ever more threateningly stinging.</p><p>Katya laughed bitterly. "As if I ever needed your cares."</p><p>The Joker laughed at her and turned her around as fast as he could, but as the knife moved away from her side Katya kicked him, and punched his face, opening his lip and made him bleed. He burst into an even louder laugh, but his eyes, like uncomfortable little lights in the dark, were wild and feral. "Got a little fight in you, huh? It takes a steady hand with ya" he commented, running his fingers over his lip and smearing them with blood. Like a feline, he approached her and even though Katya tried to hit him again, he easily stopped her when the blade of her knife scratched her neck and she moaned in pain. Joker smiled sadistically, the sight of blood on her igniting hot spirits. He smelled her: she still had that smell of innocence in her hair, on her bare skin covered only by a filthy undershirt and ripped pants.</p><p>"You'd be surprised to find out what I can handle" she commented when he pressed his hand to the wound: he was close, she could smell the oil paint on his face, the metallic scent of blood on his crimson mouth, on his rough scars. She had branded him. His fingers on her wound burned and yet that pain was so, oh so sweet. He smiled.</p><p>"And do you think you can handle me?" Joker tucked the knife back into his jacket as Katya swayed her hips forward and relaxed her shoulders. Pretty little masochist. "Ya like that?" he rested his fingers smeared with their own blood on her cut jaw, soiling her face.</p><p>Katya sighed almost imperceptibly, leaning on her touch. Touch-starved, that's how she was.<br/>It had never been touched like that. "I'm familiar with the rough ways" she breathed.</p><p>He laughed. "But you're not familiar with the Joker ways, doll." He let her go. "Do you think you can be good?"</p><p>Katya growled. "I'm tired of being locked up there! I want to go out, I want to do something."</p><p>Joker licked her lips, leaning imperceptibly against her, brushing her ear with his lips and squeezing her hair tightly behind her neck. "You'll have to be very obedient, doll, or I may decide to take you back to your father, <em>Katya</em>."</p><p>She trembled. How was it possible..? Torn by those strong hands, that dangerous voice that shook her soul and the terror of being returned as a bargaining chip, she nodded. "I'll be good, but let me do something, please."</p><p>Joker laughed at her, his wet tongue touched her neck as if for a moment he had tried to taste her, only to change his mind. "It didn't take long for you to beg" he whispered. Then, with a powerful push, he broke away from her, leaving her dry and cold, clinging to the ghost of his touch: Katya imperceptibly followed his hands and Joker let himself be followed.</p><p> </p><p>-*-*-*-</p><p> </p><p>The industrial area of Gotham was a real shit of a place: the streets were covered with dirt, in the dead and dark alleys hid all sorts of criminals, drug dealers and rapists, perverts and thieves, murderers like the Joker. He moved in the shadows without needing to hide, perfectly camouflaged among the dark walls of the city, among the streets that overflowed with misery and pain. Katya had never been there, everything was new, exciting. She walked at his side with a rhythmic step, waiting for something he found amusing enough: there was something so deeply wrong with it all and she had never felt so free, despite the fact that he was dragging her with him into a bottomless pit, in the abyss of madness. The freezing air from the ocean dragged the cold with it, the smell of the city and of his blood still imprinted on her skin, her own blood encrusted just below her collarbone.</p><p>Katya trembled. "What was that?" she whispered. A noise, a step behind them. Another step, it had to be two.</p><p>"Nichego? Vy uvereny? (1)" the voice of a man behind them. Russian.</p><p>Katya widened her eyes and drew her gun and Joker, in front of her, smiled. Before she could do anything he took a step towards her, he pushed her against the brick wall behind her, crushed her with his body. The voices and footsteps came closer. He grabbed the girl's cheeks with one hand and her full lips parted enough to invite him: Joker pounced on her mouth, sucking and biting her mercilessly, sticking his tongue inside her until he took her breath away, pressing his hard body against her soft curves.</p><p>Katya's hands clung to his shirt as she surrendered to him: it was reminiscent of that first night, but it was all so different. His tongue tasted bitter, but his lips were moist and warm, the scars rough. Joker pushed his hips against her and rubbed his crotch against her side.</p><p>"It's show time, bunny" he growled. Grabbing the loaded gun from the girl's pants he turned and fired: the first shot pierced the forehead of the first man, the second hit the shoulder of the other. The one still alive let go of the machine-gun and fell to his knees with a gasp of pain. Joker burst out laughing. "Come on bunny, keep him nice and tight" he exclaimed and Katya bit her lip, squeezing her thighs before moving off the wall and reaching for him. She grabbed the man from behind by the hair and lifted his face.</p><p>"Ah!" she exclaimed laughing "I know this one! Kak ty, sukin syn? (2)" she said and when he tried to move with a gasp of anger, she spat in his face. Joker pulled out the knife, looking at the man as if he were a fat pig ready for slaughter: he slipped the blade on the man's cheek and licked his lips, full of expectation. Now that he wasn't alone he could take his time. Looking up at her, he saw in her eyes an adorable madness, something primal and savage, the first glimmer of chaos he would unleash inside her. <em>Oh yes</em>. When the baboon tried to move again Katya squeezed his neck into her elbow, folding her arms around it and leaving him enough air to barely breathe. "A couple of months ago he caught me trying to escape. Do you know what he did when he brought me back to my father? Why don't you tell him! You just stood by! Watching, as he beat me" she growled tightening his throat more and more.</p><p>"Doll, we don't want this to end before it even starts, huh?" Joker commented and she loosened her grip. When the man muttered something in Russian and the Joker looked up at her, Katya had to resist killing him right now.</p><p>She shook her head and began to laugh bitterly as tears streamed down her cheeks. "He called me a whore" she whispered and the Joker's eyes went darker than ever. With a powerful kick he hit the man and when he squeaked that time, the Joker didn't laugh. Pointing the knife at the man's face, he clicked his tongue on the palate in an annoyed way, then stuck the knife into his open mouth.</p><p>"You wanna know how I got these scars, hm? I <em>was</em>... a soldier, a mercenary, just like you. One day, my division is attacked, they blow us up like balloons" with his toe he began to crush the man's hip, pressing into it. He kept growling in pain. "Then, not happy, they go back to search the area and I was still alive. Yeah... And when they find me you know what they say, hm? Look at me. <em>LOOK AT ME!</em> They say I should be happy to be still alive, that I should smile and they do this to me. Now, we never want you to forget who you are, do we? And what are you, hm?" Joker stretched his hands over his face and, laughing as he screamed, he began to carve the cut on the man's forehead. Katya smiled. Blood dripped down the baboon's face and she could clearly see the cut left by the Joker:</p><p>
  <strong> <em>PERVERT</em> </strong>
</p><p>Engraved letters on the man's forehead, as he struggled to breathe and Katya felt powerful. When Joker was finished he smiled satisfied and looked at her, completely enraptured by that situation, he knew what to do. From his pocket he pulled a pair of handcuffs, then walked around the man, tied his wrists and handed the knife to her: with disturbing seriousness he spoke to her. "Show me what you can do."</p><p>Katya knelt on the ground above the man. "Now I don't need this, better put it somewhere where I don't risk losing it..." and with these words she stabbed the man's leg, cutting the artery but without extracting the blade. "You know Gregori what game we like to play in our Holy Mother Russia, don't you? Why waste the opportunity?" Katya drew her gun, taking all but one of the bullets off. She pointed the gun to her temple. "What would my father say if you brought me home dead? What would he do to you?" He began to shake its head, scream and plead, but she pulled the trigger.</p><p><em>Click</em>. Nothing happened. Katya burst out laughing. Then she pointed the gun at his head. "Beg me to forgive you like I was begging my father" she whispered and he started screaming again.</p><p>"Enough! Enough! Please! I beg you!" he screamed and his pants got wet with urine as he cried without stopping. Katya giggled again. <em>Click</em>. Nothing happened.</p><p>"Tell me you're sorry you didn't intervene" she whispered again, but when he opened his mouth to speak she stuck the barrel of the gun in it and shook her head. "I'm sorry Gregori, but <em>I can't hear you</em>." With these last words she pulled the knife out of his leg and thrust it into his chest hard, so many times that the blood splattered all over her, her chest, her face. When she was done, with shortness of breath and adrenaline running through her veins, she looked up at him smiling.</p><p><br/>Joker had been watching her all that time, without interfering and it was... Oh <em>God</em> what it was. He was so hard, so aroused. Katya had been so... so much potential in such a small doll: pain, control, trauma, there was in her everything he craved, enclosed as a tiny gift of the world to him, him, the Prince of Chaos, Gotham's nightmare. He wanted her, he wanted to brand her as his, shape her, tie her to him, drop her and grab her again only to destroy her into a thousand pieces that he would recombine at will. Yes, a new toy, his favorite. His cock was so hard. She was covered in blood, screams of pain still echoed in his ears. The best part was always where they started begging. They would do anything to get away from him, but she... she didn't, Katya didn't. But he would wait: <em>oh</em> he was good at using the time available and she would never leave, <em>no no</em>. Approaching her, Joker made her stand up, without weighing in the slightest to wipe her face from the blood, but lowering his mouth to her and licking her lips. The metallic taste of her blood met his tongue and he was close enough to come into his very pants. Growling, Joker uncovered her face from her long dark hair, squeezing it in one hand and smiled. "Seems ya'll be staying for good, doll."</p><p> </p><p>-*-*-*-</p><p> </p><p>Joker had never believed in collaborations: one man against one world. He knew that basically everyone, in their real selves, turned out to be nothing but animals, but Katya... She was like him, with only one problem: he was the first, the only person from whom she had received something more, something she'd always had to fight for. Protection. And this, oh this made her addicted: the idea that without him she wouldn't feel free and protected at the same time, endowed with purpose. When they returned to the penthouse she undressed leaving her bloodstained clothes on the floor and Joker was waiting for her. Studying the girl's movements without needing to observe her closely, he recognized the sound of his bedroom door closing behind her. At that moment, the Joker stood up. Leaving his jacket on the floor, taking off his shoes and walking towards the room, he entered. Katya was already lying in bed, on her stomach, but hearing the door she looked up; there was an admiration in those eyes... why was she drawn so towards him? Why did she rely on this? She made no sense and at the same time she fascinated him. She fluttered her long dark lashes and rested her head on the pillow again, saying nothing. He sat in the chair leaning against the wall, opposite the bed and did nothing but watch her chest rise with each breath. Just as children look at their toys and choose how to use them, so Joker studied her. Until Katya finally fell into a deep sleep.</p><p>It must have been two in the morning, not later. It had begun to rain and thunder and the humid city air had turned to dusty heat within the penthouse walls. Katya was sweaty, her whole body covered in wet, warm sweat. Her breathing was heavy. In her mind she was tormented by nightmares: she had never received a caress, she had never been kissed, she had never felt free and she had never taken revenge. For years her life had been dictated by a series of tortures, constant physical and psychological torture, as if she had to continually prove her right to stay alive one more day. Ruska Roma had never forgiven her for any mistakes. All she had received was beatings. She was used to those. The pain was familiar to her, it was an old friend, that pain, but feeling the scratch of that knife, the wound on her chest and him pressing his bare fingers to her blood while his warm body was so close to her, like it was a game and no longer a threat, as if she didn't have to worry about staying alive with him... god what a feeling it had been. His touch, his kiss, his body, the smell of oil paint and gasoline that impregnated his clothes, his strength... Joker was her savior, her guardian angel, her new god.</p><p>A violent thunder woke her with a start. Katya blinked, bouncing on the mattress and taking a huge breath. The room was completely dark at first, but slowly she got used to it: on the chair in front of her the silhouette of the Joker was still there, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up above the elbow, a couple of buttons undone, eyes black as the night. He got up, walking silently towards her and sat down on the bed: the slatted mattress creaked, another thunder ripped through the night, everything in the room was still dark and black. She did not move, she remained waiting, lying on the bed and firm as a docile creature; his hand reached out to her. Katya had given up on the sheet, Gotham's humid heat covered her entirely and she'd only been wearing one of her tank tops and a pair of panties. Joker rested the palm of his hand on her chest and Katya was sure he could feel the heavy throbbing of her heart. His touch was almost uncertain, confused, uncoordinated: his hand was strong, but he pushed himself further up on her neck, tapping his fingers on the skin, sometimes trying to withdraw his hand, but always deciding to stay there at the end. On her sweaty bare skin, his palm stopped, his fingers sliding along her jaw. There were no more bloodstains on her, not even the red paint mark left by their kiss, in that filthy alley just before they killed those subspecies of men. Joker had to tidy up his pants so as not to feel them tighten painfully around his crotch, but continued his expert administration: her skin was moist with sweat, soft, the white canvas that he had sought so much and finally found. It had been incredibly boring lately. As his hand reached her face and his palm stopped on her cheek removing a lock of hair from her temple, Katya leaned in his touch. Why would anyone want to do such a thing? Why? But she, she did, for some reason. She killed a man with her bare hands and then purred for a caress. Joker quickly drew back that hand, confused but intrigued. He let it crawl on her body, on her young, soft, attractive breasts. Katya's breathing had accelerated, then disappeared: she had held it in her chest, her breast immersed in the palm of his hand, giving it to him without screaming, without wriggling, without struggling. Why wasn't she struggling? He tried again, reached his other hand under her neck and Katya didn't move, didn't move away, didn't resist and when he squeezed her hair tightly scratching the back of her neck she smiled. Yeah, a great bright smile on those lips of hers.</p><p>Joker pulled her hair, she arched her back and followed his movements, giving him free access to her body. She had never felt more alive: he was taking his time, he was exploring her body, he was leading her and after that night... yes, after that night she knew she would let him lead her. As his hand continued to dip into her hair and squeeze it in his powerful grip, the other descended languidly on her body. Her chest, her belly, her side, his palm pressed against her body, until he reached her joint between her legs and... waited.</p><p><em>Consent</em>. He was not the type to seek consent, he had never even been patient enough to wait for it: women often bored him, and they were only good for an hour of fun and no more, they were so quick to beg. So weak, so crybaby, but Katya... Katya fought and his knife didn't scare her, and the wound he had caused made her feel alive as long as he kept touching her, he had turned her on. He had given her a new life, her mad search for freedom stopped when she looked at him, as if she found her goal in his touch. So he was waiting: consent.</p><p>And she gave it to him, opening her legs.</p><p>His fingers moved, pressing against the knot of nerves from above her already-soaked panties, rotating his fingertips on it without ever taking his gaze from that face: lips parted like petals, sweaty hair scattered on the pillow, eyes closed in an expression of pure ecstasy. She breathed, and breathed, and breathed. He had never heard a woman breathe like this for him. And she was disgustingly satisfying.</p><p>Katya met his movements starting to wave her hips up and down, meeting his warm hand, intoxicated by the bitter smell of him that invaded the room, already addicted to that heat. Joker was... Who was he? She didn't know, she had no idea! But it was hilarious and exciting, new and so, so free: dark, perverted, sick probably... There were so many things wrong with it all and she craved them, the darkness had always called out to her, the desire to release that irrepressible force that was inside her. Rules. She was fed up with the rules and Joker... He didn't even have one, she was sure of that, so when he slipped his fingers under the fabric and finally touched her soft sex lips, Katya moaned and smiled.</p><p>Joker snapped: he took his hands away from her, pushing her against her mattress when she tried to get up to understand why he had moved about her, and he lay on his stomach on the bed between her thighs. As soon as she understood his movement, she took off her panties dropping them to the floor and spread her legs wildly. His nails sank into her flesh, his fingers squeezed her so much that she hissed in pain for a moment, but those marks she would bring on her skin would only be a sign of pleasure, immense pleasure. Joker sank his mouth on her like a big, bad, hungry wolf: his flat tongue rested on that dripping cunt, greedily licking her, sucking all that delicious nectar, his mouth wide open as if he wanted to swallow it whole. His jaws were wide and her pussy was so small and tight. Joker stuck his tongue inside her curious to taste it better and his whole face was immersed on her, his nose was pressed against her clitoris and her whole body, her soft thighs, her slippery pussy covered with saliva and liquid, her hot crotch, everything was covered with him, his oily paint, his acrid sweat, his bitter breath, while she was so, so sweet.</p><p>She came, she moaned clutching the pillow and the sheets, panting and moving to meet his tongue, but the Joker held her tight and firm: she came, again and again, and despite the pleasure he was giving her, that wasn't for her. That was Joker's exploration, his desire to have, his need to know and manipulate. It was such a sweet way of manipulation... she was panting, overstimulated, she was crying and begging to come again, to stop him, to give her relief and he licked her like a kitten licks his cream. Only at the end, when her voice choked in her throat and his jaw began to ache, only when he felt full, did Joker stop.</p><p>Katya fell exhausted on the bed as if she had been lifted in midair all that time and Joker snarled, a primal, rough sandpaper sound coming from his throat and allowing him to breathe again. Katya, exhausted, soon fell into a deep sleep and the Joker, torn apart by something he had never intended to try, walked out of the room with his hands in his hair.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>(1) Nothing? Are you sure?<br/>(2) How are you, son of a bitch?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>November 2008</strong>
</p><p>Lev Vinogradov turns pale when they tell him that John Wick just knocked on his office door. <em>Baba Yaga</em>. Is he there for him? But if so why on earth knock on his office? So the man puts his tie back in order and gets up, approaching the door to welcome that devil. John looks very human, despite everything, even though it's late November in Gotham and he seems to have shown up only in a dark blue formal suit, matching tie and white shirt. "Mr. Wick" Vinogradov greets him, inviting him to enter with a gesture "Viggo told me that he would send someone, but you... Please enter".</p><p>John gives thanks with a nod of his head and takes a seat where Lev points. "Mr. Tarasov is upset, he asked me to take care of the clown. He said you could provide me with information."</p><p>The man nods and his imposing figure covers most of the faint white light of the cloudy city sky that comes from the window. The smell of vodka fills the entire office, but John would be used to certain work environments were it not that Lev himself smells awful. "That son of a bitch is gone. The Chechen didn't have time to warn me before the Joker took possession of all the money. Some madman said he burned it all, but in fact he disappeared. And... He took my daughter." John frowns. Viggo had talked about Katya, but not that she was involved in the matter. The man grabs a frame on the desk and shows it to the killer, but the photo doesn't show the near-adult that John saw in the folder given to him by Tarasov: in that photo is a familiar-looking girl. "She's been missing for about six months. I have reason to believe he kidnapped her. Obviously I've been looking for her everywhere, but it's like looking for a needle in a haystack. Joker is smart. A psychopath for sure, but smart." Lev turns and looks him in the eyes with a dark and serious expression, as if he had long hidden a serious secret and now saw in John the possibility of freeing himself from it; John doesn't like him, he's not a political man like some of them, he only knows how to handle weapons. "When you find Joker, and you find her, I'll pay you double what Tarasov pays you to bring her back to me, alive."</p><p>John nods without adding anything. He gets all the files and all the photos that his men have recovered in the previous days and studies them carefully. "I'd like to talk to your men, some of them may have missed some information."</p><p>Lev pales, but to refuse would be to refuse the High Table and he is still below it, such a gamble would be too risky. So he nods, without adding anything else. John gets up and puts his jacket back in order, there is a caliber 9 pistol inside and he isn't afraid to show it when he reaches out to Vinogradov. "Tarasov pays me five hundred thousand. For the young lady alive it's one million."</p><p>Lev, defeated, nods. Wick is his only hope.</p><p>Later that day, the fifth man John questions collapses after a few minutes. The concrete base that Vinogradov had granted him to proceed with the interrogation of his guards was dusty, dark. A sinister yellow light hung from the ceiling and vibrated from time to time; John didn't feel the bitter cold running through the place, but the men in front of him shivered. The one who had just entered had never stopped staring at the sharp pencil that John turned in his fingers, apparently bored.</p><p>"Sit down" Wick orders him and he obeys without repeating.</p><p>"I saw you, John Wick" he admits in a hoarse, trembling voice "killing five men with a pencil. With a fucking pencil..." John remains impassive, but the drop of cold sweat on that desperate's forehead is a good sign. That keeps talking. "I'll tell you everything I know, I swear, but don't kill me! I have children, a family..."</p><p>"Tell me where can I find Joker" John replies with a snort. And he tells.</p><p>By the time John exits the building the sky is already dark and the street is full of lights. Gotham is a golden sea of intricate and silent roads and the gaze can be lost infinitely in the crowded streets. It reminds him of Chicago. It's chaos, John has to admit: bad roads, debris, a destroyed tunnel, more than a building razed to the ground. How can a single man do that? John has always considered himself a pragmatic and precise soldier, he tries to get his jobs done cleanly, but all of that doesn't seem like the work of a greedy, money-hungry man. That looks like the work of a madman, one who just wanted to see the world burn. A shiver runs through his back and John rolls his eyes: it's starting to rain in Gotham and he wonders if the rain isn't following him. It's time to make new purchases.</p><p>John returns to the Continental, the sommelier and the seamstress are at his full service. "The guy I have to deal with likes gasoline" he admits and they already know what to do. Close-range combat preferred: Joker was not agile in hand-to-hand combat, certainly unfair and incorrect, but giving him distance would have been dangerous. He liked explosives, bombs, fire, nothing John could directly control. As the young woman weaved his new fireproof suit, John thought of Katya and wondered who she was, what she meant to Joker, if she was still alive, if she was his woman or a pawn, a hostage or a warrior. Katya Vinogradov, a real mystery.</p><p> </p><p>-*-*-*-</p><p> </p><p>In the penthouse, Jack and Katya haven't needed to wear clothes for two days: it's just the two of them, a few boxes of take-out food, their favorite knives, the hot water still running in the bathroom and they don't need anything else. They're both exhausted, the last energies left after the adrenaline of the last few days are completely spent, consumed as fast as the flame of a match and of the two of them there is nothing left but the ashes. In Gotham has started to rain again and Katya loves thunder, their violent roar interrupts the dark night that falls over the city every day. He still holds her a little to his chest, his hand slides over her branded back and caresses her, drawing disjointed patterns. His breath is always so hot that it could set her on fire. There are so many things about him that make her feel safe next to Gotham's most dangerous man; in her eyes he's only Jack. He plays with a lighter, turns it on and off, turns it on and off, and that flame is the only source of light. Sometimes Katya wonders if he doesn't want to set her on fire, but Joker already does, just in a different way; with her gasoline isn't needed, his voice on her bare neck is enough. It is he who breaks the silence.</p><p>"Time to weigh anchor, doll. Got a job in Metropolis" he says.</p><p>Katya stiffens, his hand stops flat on her back, holding her still. She tries to keep her voice steady and controlled. "Gotham has gotten horribly boring since Batman retired, hasn't it?"</p><p>Joker nods gravely and the sound of his tongue floats in the air for a few seconds. "I'm a man of action and Gotham doesn't deserve me right now. But don't worry, bunny, we'll be back soon."</p><p>Katya lights up and lifts her face, meeting only Joker's scarred cheek and his hand, which sinks into her thick hair and caresses her hard. She purrs like a cat in love. "<em>We</em>, together?"</p><p>Jack rolls his eyes to capture a picture of her. No matter how many brains they blow up, she will always have this innocent aura around her, those eyes so confident and bright every time he looks at them. "Honestly, how do you think I could go without my favorite audience, hm?" Jack stands up and turns on her, covering her with her body. She is beautiful. Still beautiful. None of what Joker has experienced in the last six months has ever happened to him, it felt like an ecstasy that was destined to last. Why stop something that continues to be so fulfilling? So funny? So... <em>Err</em>, he hates to think that, but the thought of not having her like this... pure torture. She is indispensable, the nourishment for his obsession, the object of every desire to possess her, an infallible weapon, simply her. She, with her colored tank tops, the way she climbs up the ladder upside down and laughs, the way she kisses his scars and his cut mouth as if it were a delicious fruit. He hates to think that, but she is more, much more. Does he need her? Probably not. Does he want her? Yes. With all of himself. He can't imagine any city in the world without her.</p><p>"Well then we set sail for Metropolis. Fifteen men on the Dead Man's Chest - Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!" Katya exclaimes and Jack burst out laughing.</p><p>"Fifteen, you say?" he comments, planting a nice wet kiss on her neck, while Katya still laughs. "We can do better." His hands slide along the young woman's naked sides as his mouth climbs her, he climbs up her body biting and sucking, kissing every inch of her skin before reaching her mouth. Jack became a particularly generous lover when he was tired, as if it were more difficult for him to control himself. During those days he had been overexcited, but exhaustion now hits him like a runaway train and she knows it.</p><p>"We could do a lot better... but maybe now we could use some sleep."</p><p>He covers her mouth with a deep, slow, intense kiss: his tongue is hot and rough, it dances with hers, it seems to suck even her soul. It is the most powerful thing she has ever experienced and she will never tire of being kissed like this.</p><p>"Or maybe, we could play again..." he proposes, but immediately regrets it. Even his cock seems to want to give up. Twenty-four hours are enough. Joker sighs and raises his eyebrows in funny disapproval. "You seem to be right..."<br/>Katya gently pushes him onto her and Jack places his cheek between her breasts where he can feel her heartbeat. They both close their eyes. They don't need to tell each other anything else.</p><p> </p><p>-*-*-*-</p><p> </p><p>The lounge bar at the Independent Gotham Continental is packed with people, and it's understandable on a rainy Saturday night like this. Not that the work of the killers, thieves and criminals of the High Table has any pause or rule when it comes to the weekly days, but so far the job has been boring, John wants to rest before resuming in the morning. What's more, everyone loves Gotham: a happy island far from the laws, a corner of carefree frenzy. Many are wanted, some excomunicado. John would like to get rid of some of them, but then he himself would suffer the consequences. He orders a bourbon with ice and sits down at the unassuming counter. The music continues, but he hardly hears it. One of them approaches him with a sly smile on his lips: he is an excomunicado, John has received the contract like all the others, and if he could he would make his heart explode with a gunshot, but within the walls of the Gotham Continental that man has no fear of approaching.</p><p>"John Wick" he greets him, but John doesn't answer. He has a pretty nerve, that guy: someone said that he was locked up in a psychiatric hospital after the official excommunication, that he took refuge in Gotham forever and maybe that's why no one ever caught him. "I heard you're here on business."</p><p>"That's the only good reason to move out of New York" John replies, taking another sip of bourbon.</p><p>"So it's true that you're here for him, you're here for... <em>The Joker</em>" he comments with an annoying laugh.</p><p>John nods. "Why do you all talk about him as if he were a monster?"</p><p>"Well maybe because if he wasn't, they wouldn't have asked another monster to kill him, <em>Baba Yaga</em>."</p><p>John isn't a great conversationalist, when that man goes away he is only grateful not to have to entertain more useless chatter and yet something stings his soul of him; strangers shouldn't get under his skin like that. When he lifts his glass of bourbon he realizes it's empty. The bartender approaches him, blinks languidly and bites her lip.</p><p>"This is on the house, John" she says and leans forward. Her long black curls fall over her large breasts, her ebony skin is flawless, her plump lips are inviting. "Rough night? I can make it better if you want."</p><p>John smiles, contemplates the idea of that stranger in his bed and just wants to sleep and go home. Or at least, in New York. In short, the only place he knows as home. Gotham is confusing him. He strokes her lips with the tip of his thumb, but shakes his head. "Another time honey" he says. He grabs the glass of bourbon and goes back to his room.</p><p> </p><p>-*-*-*-</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Madness is like gravity, all it takes is a single push.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Batman drops him. As if he were falling from the sky itself, from a star in the middle of the universe, Joker plunges into hell. The earth is a chasm ready to swallow him. He laughs, the entire time. Here, this is the moment when Batman catches him, he doesn't drop him, he doesn't. He doesn't. He shouldn't do that. But Joker passes in front of her eyes and Batman doesn't stop him. He keeps falling. No. NO! She can't do anything, she can't stop him and the only option is... The only one, is to go with him. And Katya does it, she jumps into the void.”</em>
</p><p>Katya wakes up screaming. "NO! JACK! JACK!" her voice is strangled, her cries in despair, her cheeks streaked with tears, her hands in her hair and she remains naked, sitting in a fetal position in the middle of the empty bed. He enters the room. The first time it had happened he'd rushed inside her brandishing a loaded pistol in one hand, only to laugh out loud at the sight of her. Then, when he realized that his laughter hadn't solved the problem, that Katya was still beside herself, alienated from reality, he had crawled towards her and had to mistreat her hard before she finally blinked and noticed that he was still alive, still with her. At that moment he now knows what to do: Joker gets on the bed, pushes Katya against the mattress and grabs her face in one hand.</p><p>"Look at me" he says, but she keeps crying, her mouth opens to scream again. "LOOK AT ME!" he growls violently at the end and, eventually, the needle eye in her pupils widens and she begins to come back into herself. Her breathing slows, her tears slowly dry. It's not enough, he sees it. There is still terror in her eyes, perhaps she wonders if they are both dead. Joker, who had wore his pants shortly after waking up in her arms, after a couple of hours of sleep, pulls out a knife. His knives are always sharp enough to cut at first touch if he wants, and that's exactly how he does: his blade scratches her collarbone, there on the scar he gave her, a drop of blood slips down towards the bed. The wound burns, but at that point she smiles and starts breathing for real.</p><p>"Ah, crazy girl, can't feel sane without a little pain?" Joker comments with a pleased half smile.</p><p>Katya smiles. "Oh Jack, but you make it feel so good." She looks at him with dreamy eyes and his expression softens.</p><p>He no longer needs the knife, this isn't the time: she's so beautiful, such a masterpiece must be protected once it's made perfect. And she's perfect, his perfect result, the only plan gone completely right. Sometimes he wonders if she's more interesting than Gotham. Katya puts her hands on her chest, her fingers get stained with blood, but he doesn't pay too much attention to those stains of hers. As she lifts them up and places them on his face, her thumbs slide along the contour of his lips.</p><p>"Do you still think I have - what did you say, ah - a cute pair of lips?" he asks, his eyebrows raised inquisitively and she laughs and nods. She follows the outline of the scars and he closes his eyes, shaking for a moment. It's something so intimate and the Joker killed for a lot less.</p><p>"There, <em>breathtaking</em>" she finally whispers "this is the shade of red that suits you".</p><p>"Can you be a good puppy and sleep now, hm? I don't wish I had to interrupt my work again to come and cut your throat to get you back."</p><p>Katya nods and sighs. He gives her a caress on her face that looks more like a light slap and leaves to go to the bathroom. A single fragment of the mirror remains in the center, a piece with irregular angles; the light vibrates before turning on and then... boom, it lights it up. The girl drew his Glasgow smile with her own blood: dark and crimson like the peel of a ripe cherry. He turns off the light, goes down the stairs without looking back, knowing that Katya is sound asleep again and licks his lips, this time not out of his incorrigible vice, but to taste her. He too sometimes wonders if he's still alive, then she floats him back into the light. When he sits down in his office and opens his journal again, Jack writes a single word: <em>breathtaking</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>May 2008</strong>
</p><p>Two weeks. Two weeks had passed since those deaths and the Joker had rarely shown up. He came and went, where he spent most of his time when he got out of the attic was a mystery, but he liked action and never turned down a job when offered. He wasn't interested in money, which is why his "employees" considered him a good employer: despite the mood swings, murders and sadism, those who made it to the end of the day grabbed the largest chunk of money. Joker only demanded food (although he rarely ate, in a nervous and voracious way, swallowing more or less whatever he found, especially junk food) and the rest of the time he spent in his office. Katya had never entered. She had worked with him and for him all those days and she had begun to observe: he had no rules, had no schedules, was not sleepy, thirsty, hot or cold. He existed, immersed in the world he created in his closet in which she hadn't yet entered or earned the right to enter. However, he had become obsessive, jealous.</p><p>The first time they had hit the ACE Chemical Industry, they had stolen a few tens of kilos of TNT, in part they would have been delivered to no-one-knows which Mafia boss, but Joker had seized the opportunity, he loved explosives. Katya was good with weapons, she had proven to handle them with dexterity, and Joker hadn't been surprised when she had landed and killed two armed security guards in less than fifteen seconds. Joker had approached the girl, one of the few contacts they had had since that night, had given her a light pats on the head and had commented with a laugh: "You take all the fun, doll, don't you?". But he hadn't been the only one who liked her... one of those men, returning to the stolen truck, had decided to sit particularly close to her.</p><p>"Hey, baby" he approached and Katya laughed without looking up at her. She already knew that the man was going to die, the instant he spoke to her in that disgusting way. "I don't see a nice thing like you every day, one who can do somethin' like that with weapons."</p><p>Katya gave him a look of intense hatred and her thunderous laughter turned into an evil hiss. "What makes you think I'm a thing?" Katya got up and scrambled up front, chasing one of the men out and sitting in the passenger seat.</p><p>Joker continued driving to their warehouse, to the base of the building where they spent their days. When he stopped, he got out first and hopped to the back door, opening it and letting his men down. "<em>Err</em>" Joker cleared his throat "you, yes <em>you</em>". When he turned around, the Joker slammed the sawn-off shotgun into his nose, immediately knocking him down. Laughing, the Joker leaned over him. "Hush, hush, <em>baby</em>. That's what you called her, didn't ya? See, I'm a lowly man Josh, your name is Josh yeah?" he nodded and Joker continued "I'm a lowly man Josh, but I don't like it when you get close to my doll. Now, oh no no no, don't cry, no, now I'll give you a chance to apologize." Joker looked at Katya and with a gesture of his hand told her to come closer; she stopped in front of the bloody dude and the Joker lifted his face to show her. "Now repeat after me, Josh. <em>I'm so sorry</em>..."</p><p>The man lying, trembling, began to speak. "I'm so sorry..."</p><p>"...<em>for being disrespectful</em>..." Joker insisted and Katya began to laugh.</p><p>"...for being disrespectful..."</p><p>"Bravo, bravo... <em>and because of my behavior</em>, come on repeat..."</p><p>"...and because of my behavior..."</p><p>Joker looked up and winked at the girl, showing off his best smile. "...<em>now the boss will cut my throat</em>. Say it, Josh."</p><p>"No! No, I swear, I won't..." but Josh never had time to finish the sentence. Joker shot him in the forehead. The rest of the men ran away, into the building, and the Joker stayed there with Katya.</p><p>"Boring! Wasn't even worth cutting his throat" he commented, before reaching out to her and Katya grabbed his hand with a smile. Joker pushed her towards him, his body against her. "They can't talk to you if it's not okay to me. You talk to someone, they answer, nothing more, and if you don't like someone..." he didn't need to finish the sentence, his lips did, they opened and sank into her mouth. They kissed intensely and Joker took her breath away, his tongue tasted her voraciously, a low growl came from the depths of his throat and his scarred lips touched her mouth entirely. Taking a deep breath, Joker moved away from her and grinned, but after the kiss he let her go and walked in front of her, until he returned to the penthouse where he locked himself in his office muttering something incomprehensible.</p><p>That day, after another ten of silence, Katya had had enough. She was hungry. It was noon, the sun was high in the sky and she was craving ice cream. With all the firmness she found in her heart she knocked on the door. "Joker" she called him. No reply. "Joker I'll send the guys to get food, I'll have ice cream. Do you want something?"</p><p>There was no sound for a while, but when Katya finally walked away he opened the door. They stood facing each other and she stared: Joker was half naked, wearing only pants and suspenders dropped to his hips. His chest was crisscrossed with scars from shots, cuts and cigarette burns. He was lean, but not skinny, his muscles were defined and damn beautiful. He chuckled. "Did you get a good look, doll?"</p><p>Katya smiled imperceptibly. "Well you come out like that after days of absence... It's like you're asking for it."</p><p>Joker had approached with a curious, vaguely amused expression, and Katya had noticed the days-old makeup melting on his face and his oily hair. To any woman it would have been disgusting, but she knew what his paint-stained tongue tasted like and how his warm skin smelled like on her body. "Oh, the little bunny knows how to play..." he commented as he placed his hands on her hips, swaying on her.</p><p>"You keep underestimating me" she replied, keeping her voice steady. Joker was an unpredictable dude, but she liked the thrill.</p><p>He licked his lips. "That's because I want you to amaze me" he replied with dangerous seriousness.</p><p>"What do you want for lunch?" Katya replied.</p><p>There, Joker felt for a second, a single second taken aback. Why ask for lunch? <em>Boring</em>. But as soon as he pondered his answer, Katya broke free from his arms with a sudden move and pushed him backwards, then raised her hand and... showed the knife, the double blade she had managed to steal from his pocket, before walking away. She, laughing as she did so, ran up the stairs to the room.</p><p>Joker ran a hand through his hair and nodded. "I like this game. <em>I like it</em>." Joker began to climb the stairs with some haste, he knew that Katya was locked in the room, but it wouldn't have been so trivial. He also knew that the room, in the absence of artificial light, was completely dark, windowless, with a single large wire-mesh bed in the center, a wardrobe in one corner, and a chair in front of the bed. Then there was the bathroom. Joker opened the door without worrying about the noise, she would hear the same. "I won't count to ten, bunny. Do you wanna dance with the big bad wolf?" The door closed behind him, leaving them in the dark.</p><p>Katya was quick, but not fast enough, not as perceptive as he had learned to survive in the shadows: Joker knew he wouldn't hear her footsteps, but the warmth, the scent... yes, those were unmistakable (<em>fucking delicious shower gel</em>). Behind him, Katya was right-handed, but she knew the Joker would remember, so... he turned left, stepped aside, grabbed her cocked wrist, dropped the knife, wrapped her wrists behind her back and finally, reaching out a hand, he turned on the light. Joker sucked her bare neck until he left a big red mark on her skin. "I win" he said, growling.</p><p>"Actually, you asked me to surprise you" she replied, leaning her back against her chest "and I did. So I win, J. What do you want for lunch?"</p><p>He burst out laughing. "I don't mind hot and spicy. Actually find that<em>, ah</em>, appealing in a girl. And chicken wings" and just before kissing her again one of his men came in claiming to have brought cheesburger and strawberry ice cream.</p><p>Joker ate frantically and in silence, but that time after lunch he didn't run to lock himself in his closet: his full attention was on her, Katya lying on the new sofa as she licked a spoon full of strawberry ice cream that melted on her tongue. Fuckin 'strawberry ice cream. From where he was he could only see her feet sticking out of the headboard of the sofa, but he could hear the sound of her tongue sucking ice cream from the spoon.</p><p>He smacked her lips and got her attention. "Doll" he asked as he approached, wiping his fingers on his pants "you know what's tasty, sticky and you're going to have it for lunch, hm?" walking around the sofa, he stopped in front of the girl.</p><p>Katya stopped and looked up at him.<br/>"Strawberry ice cream?" she asked naively, but Joker shook his head, licking his lips and bringing his hands to the flap of his pants, starting to undo them.</p><p>"<em>My cum</em>, and you'll swallow it all, won't you?" with those words, Joker pulled his cock out of his pants. Katya widened her eyes: he was big, thick, so hard. But when she hesitated, unsure what to do with it, Joker got impatient and sat on the sofa, grabbing her and turning her until her ass was lifted over his crotch. With his bare hands, he tore the fabric of her panties that covered the beautiful, luscious pussy he wanted. "Ah there, now we're talking..." he murmured. His strong hand flung itself against her bare butt and Katya screamed. "Oh no, bunny, am I hurting you? You should have thought about it before starting this game with me." Those weren't just slaps, his hand was strong enough to break the capillaries in her skin and after only eight strokes she already had her ass red and tears in her eyes, but she knew how to handle it. His fingers slid on the wet lips of her sex after each stroke: he would make her love that pain, he would make her unable to achieve pleasure without one of his merciless tortures, he would tie her to him forever or at least until when he wanted.<br/>She didn't rebel, but it didn't give him any satisfaction: the tears stopped in the corners of her eyes, her screams choked in her throat and she clung to the arm of the sofa hard. "Aren't you going to cry? Screaming, begging, praying, aren't you? Not even a little bit?" Joker asked laughing, but when she, without speaking, shook her head, he began to get impatient. Katya found herself lying on the couch on her back, the Joker straddling her as he pointed a knife to her throat. "How about I cut your throat and see if that doesn't hurt, hm?" he growled angrily, but she wasn't intimidated.</p><p>"Look at you go!" she spat out the words with an amused laugh on her lips. "Rather frustrating, looking for something without finding it. But don't worry, I'll make it easier for you." She lifted her face, offering her throat without resisting. "Cut it off. You have nothing to threaten me with, nothing to do with all your strength. You think you are so much smarter, but you haven't considered me: you won't take me back to my father because I am too much fun and I won't rebel, because I have nothing to lose."</p><p>Joker felt an intense movement of passion in his loins: that woman, she never ceased to amaze him. She belonged to him, he had already decided, and he knew that he could do anything what he wanted to her, but he wouldn't kill her. No. Not that day. She was different. To his enormous astonishment and his disgust at his own insurmountable and unbeatable weakness, he drew back the knife, because he didn't want to hurt her. No, not her, she was already perfect. His name was already on her skin: the cut on her collarbone, the red mark of his kiss, her skin stained with his oily crimson paint. He didn't want to hurt her and how much he wished he'd managed to hate her enough to kill her. "You better take it like a good girl and open that fucking cunt for me" he barked, letting go of the knife and taking his naked cock in his hand. She, beneath him, spread her legs apart and crossed them on his back. She was burning and she was so wet, so wildly ready to welcome him: she had never felt so eager and carnal, perverse and passionate.</p><p>When the Joker entered her with a single, powerful thrust, she finally screamed; she smiled with satisfaction and watching him frown in an expression of pure bliss as he began to fuck her passionately, hammering his cock inside her mercilessly, looking at her with those black pits that were his eyes, Katya knew that he had just ruined her for anyone else. He was hard, so big inside her, so so fucking warm and he kept taking, taking anything from her, every tear that ran down her face during that sweet torture, every cry halfway between pleasure and pain when the head of his cock touched her cervix and that orgasm, that powerful release of pleasure he was causing in her, but it wasn't enough.</p><p>"Joker!" she called his name, begging him to give her more. He was torn between hatred and pleasure.</p><p>"Fuckin 'slut, can't get off without a little pain, uh?!" he growled again and when she yelled his name again he felt like this, so...</p><p>"Please!" Katya screamed, her eyes wide open, deep inside his own and desperate for him. She was on the edge of the precipice and all she was asking him for was a little push. He gave it to her: grabbing her neck with one hand, the Joker hit her on her face with the other, his hard slap echoed and she moaned again. The walls of her pussy tightened around him, milking his cock and he came inside her with an angry growl and sore eyes.</p><p>Her inconsolable crying turned into a relieved laugh as her orgasm subsided and the Joker slipped out of her, their mixed liquids sliding out of her pussy, down her thigh to the sofa cushion. Joker sat in the opposite corner, legs wide open just after he was partially dressed and his head resting behind: he seemed relaxed, for once. Katya continued to breathe deeply, feeling her heartbeat slow down and the air filling her lungs again. Her cheek was still warm, but it had been absolutely necessary to get her to peak. She never thought she'd tell herself, but that pain... that had been <em>sweet</em>.</p><p>"Better that there isn't any, ah, surprise after this. I don't mind blind babies, they are quite entertaining, but children in general..." Joker shrugged off the thought and laughed as Katya sighed.</p><p>"There's no danger, J" she admitted. Joker gave her a seemingly absent look, but then she lifted her undershirt. There was a scar on her belly, a long transverse scar. "They've seen fit to stop me from... I mean, you see, there's no danger." Her voice was sad and bitter, but the Joker didn't seem upset by that. He was more interested in the scar. He looked at her as if she were a mirage: not only was she different from everyone else, but she was scarred, just like him, right there where she could never hide it from anyone. He reached out, brushed the scar with the tip of his thumb, licking his lips, seeming to be pondering who-knows-what thought; actually he was only deeply and irremediably enraptured and interested by those events and had definitely reached the point of no return. She was made for him, his new shadow.</p><p>Katya let herself be explored as he brushed the smooth, scarred cut on her skin. "People tend to think this makes me less of a woman."</p><p>Joker reached the last inch of the scar with his fingertips. "Do I look like <em>people</em>?" Katya shook her head. "Well then let's go have fun."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>July 2008</strong>
</p><p>Joker and Katya became absolutely inseparable, in the true sense of the word: if she asked to go out without him, he would wear that maniacal expression and stick a blade in her mouth, threatening to tear it to pieces if she really tried to do it. Then she moaned, told him she was only doing it because it was fun to get his attention and he remained in that uncomfortable state until he had a chance to reach out and fuck her, wherever Katya was. When they were together it was a risk and an evil light could be seen in their eyes: they searched for each other, revolved around each other like binary stars and yet no one could ever imagine how little they both knew about each other. The only thing that mattered was the present, here and now. And in the present, they were together.</p><p>Katya was bored. For the past week they had done nothing, absolutely nothing, except playing with each other with a few knives. Hide and seek was always their favorite. In the summer, even the criminals went on vacation from time to time: Katya had insisted on littering the penthouse with fans and so it had been done, but if the heat had been eliminated, the boredom remained.</p><p>She knocked on the office door, the sound of paperwork came from inside. "It's me J" she said and when she didn't hear him complain, she took the initiative and walked in. That tiny room was covered with everything: a map of Gotham covered an entire wall, another was hung with all kinds of rifles including a bazooka, the desk was covered with all kinds of crap including various glasses of fizzy drinks, a few boxes of aspirin, packs of take-out food, a notebook full of scribbles and clippings and a red pen. Joker didn't pay attention to the disorder, on the contrary he moved very well in all that chaos. He was an agent of chaos. "I'm bored" Katya stated.</p><p>Joker didn't even look up from his notebook and took another sip of energy drink from the straw. "Are you" he replied, but his voice was flat and cold.</p><p>"And I'm horny" she added.</p><p>He chuckled. "Already the, ah, looking-for-attention routine dear Katy?"</p><p>She snorted, but they were suddenly interrupted by one of the men, who approached taking advantage of the moment with a slight relief. He turned to Katya with cold distance and communicated that one of them had brought in a couple of new men who wanted to join them after a breakout. She nodded and looked back at the Joker.</p><p>"Take care of it" he said, licking his lips and going back to his notes.</p><p>Katya brightened: it was the first time he had asked her to do something without his involvement and she felt invigorated. Without asking further, she followed the other man. He walked her into the basement at the entrance and showed her the two guys, who at first seemed quite surprised in front of her.</p><p>"We were told that we were going to work for Joker, not for..." one of them began to speak, but seeing the man next to Katya turn pale, he fell silent with embarrassment. She smiled, but there was something evil in those eyes of her.</p><p>"Breakout, they say? You don't look like escaped, which prison did you say you came from?"</p><p>The other cleared his throat, babbled something about Falcone, the Italian boss who had let them rot in a federal prison after some financial indictments, that they were good with numbers and robberies.</p><p>Katya nodded. "Okay" she said, then turning to the man next to her "let's take them to the others, let's see if they can be useful." So they began to climb the dark and bumpy stairs of the building, proceeding to the floor where the Joker's men spent most of their time. Meanwhile, the two boys behind Katya began whispering to each other.</p><p>"È lei?"</p><p>"Sì, è la figlia."</p><p>"Pensi che possiamo..?"</p><p>"Aspettiamo, vediamo cosa succede." (*)</p><p>Katya said nothing, she didn't even smile, she nodded to the man and he opened the door, leading the two inside. She continued on to the attic and hopping like an excited child, she rushed into the Joker's office.</p><p>"J!" she chirped happily, entering the room uninvited. He gave her a look of deep hatred, but when she grabbed one of the semi-automatic pistols hanging on the wall, his eyes filled with curiosity. "You're busy?"</p><p>He licked his lips. "It depends."</p><p>"Well there are a couple of gentlemen who want to play with us" she replied "the two who arrived haven't come out of any prison, they are Falcone's men and are here for me".</p><p>Joker stiffened, for a moment, his black gaze sought her and finally got up from the chair, walking towards her. He pushed her against the wall and covered her with his body. "For you? What on earth would they want from you, hm?"</p><p>"Uh wouldn't surprise me if my dad put a price on my head" Katya said with a sigh. "So, what do you think? Are you in?" she asked and they both smiled.</p><p> </p><p>-*-*-*-</p><p> </p><p>The Joker's mood lifted immensely when they dealt with those two assholes: first he called them, had them taken to the basement while Katya prepared everything else. Two chairs, ropes and handcuffs, knives, weapons, gasoline and matches. At the end of the game, the two were nothing more than blood masks screaming like pigs for slaughter. It was almost too easy. After an hour Joker gave her the chance to play: Katya removed the tissues from their mouth and when one tried to scream she hit him hard on the jaw. Then she had pinched his hair and lifted his face to make him speak. "How much does my father pay?"</p><p>He coughed and then responded with a shriek of pain. "Five hundred. Please, I didn't want to, I didn't know..."</p><p>Katya hit him again. "<em>Focus</em>. How many are looking for me?"</p><p>"Falcone" he confessed "and Sal Maroni, the Chechen and Gambol".</p><p>"How do they know I'm with him?" Katya asked again, but her ones shook her head.</p><p>"They do not know!" he cried begging for mercy "Falcone wanted a contact with the Joker, that's all, but then we saw you... Vinogradov is desperate to find you".</p><p>Joker approached again, his hands covered in blood, his face expression of the anger that was brewing in his soul. He bent down in front of the man and stuck the knife in his mouth. "You think you can come to the wolf's lair and steal, hm? What if I give her back to you in pieces and then we see how reliable a pissed father really is? That woman is <em>mine</em>." Joker growled, his angry voice turning into a loud laugh as that homunculus began to wet his pants with fear. "Oh ha ha, seen the magic? The things a pair of hands and a knife can do, show Gotham's true face... You know, bunny, they give me ideas."<br/>Katya smiled.</p><p>That same night she and the Joker drove through the streets of Gotham. Katya hadn't been near her father's house for two months, but it was necessary if they wanted to deliver a message. While he was driving a stolen car passing at insane speed in front of the large building in which Lev Vinogradov lived and managed his business, Katya threw a package laughing wildly: the men at the door didn't have time to notice who he was and Joker flew away carrying Katya with him.</p><p>The men at the door grabbed the package uncertainly - it was nothing more than a brown carton and it looked pretty empty. They opened it hesitantly and nearly fainted on the spot: the message that had been delivered to Vinogradov was clear, and they had been careful not to leave out any detail. The two men bodies had been absolutely fundamental and the note said:</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Are these all the balls you got to come and find her?</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>It had been extremely fun packing the package and Katya had to admit that J was a real genius. Traveling in the car, she rolled down all the windows and let the night air ruffle her hair, making her feel free. Or maybe, maybe it was the smell of gunpowder, burnt gasoline and him, beside her, nervous and wild as he drove wildly through the deserted streets of Gotham's outlying streets. If they had asked her what she was feeling at that moment, perhaps Katya wouldn't have been able to tell; the world outside that car kept spinning and yet didn't really matter that it existed, Joker was right there, next to her. That was all that mattered: her freedom was in his hands.</p><p>"I'm thirsty" Katya said, eyes closed.</p><p>Joker licked his lips. "You are a pampered doll, you know this right?" but then he pinned the car so fast that Katya jumped forward in the seat and banged her head. He, laughing, got out of the car and when she looked up she saw him kneeling in front of the lowered door of a lounge bar, while he broke the lock and raised the metal door little necessary to enter. She followed him.</p><p>There was a power generator, J had found it and turned it on. Golden lights filled the room as the two sat at a table, sipping whiskey and vodka in silence. Katya could feel his eyes on her skin even though neither of them was speaking. He never dropped any shields, not even with her, not even after all the things done. She let her gaze wander, letting herself be guided by alcohol and saw that in a corner of the room there was an old juke box; with a mischievous smile she came over and began to read the titles of the various songs.</p><p>"Oh" she whispered enough to be heard "you'll like this one. It's called Gasoline."<br/>The soft rhythm of the music began to fill the room, she swung gently towards him.</p><p>
  <em>Are you insane like me?</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Been in pain like me?</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Bought a hundred dollar bottle of champagne like me?</em>
</p><p>Katya reached out to him and she was so full of hope that for a moment Joker thought about how satisfying it would be to break her, but he didn't. Sense of guilt, so he would have called it, because he knew no other explanation for that feeling. He stood up and grabbed her hands.</p><p>
  <em>Do you tear yourself apart to entertain like me?</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Do the people whisper 'bout you on the train like me?</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Saying that you shouldn't waste your pretty face like me?</em>
</p><p>She rested her chin on his shoulder, lifting herself slightly on her toes. "This is my first real date" she whispered, laughing slightly. Joker didn't answer, he put his hand on her hip and remained still. "I know that if tomorrow I decided to run out alone and go... I don't know, to Alaska or something like that, you would find me there, even at the end of the world, even everywhere" she said and his hand squeezed her waist until it hurt, but she let him. It would have been just one of many other bruises.</p><p>
  <em>With your face all made up, living on a screen</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Low on self-esteem, so you run on gasoline</em>
</p><p>"Anyone would be afraid at the thought" she continued "not me". Joker indulged her, for a moment, and his hips came close to hers and turned on themselves. Katya smiled. "I've never felt safer than this and one doesn't screw up something so precious. If I were to die, I wish it were by your hand." Joker took a deep breath, as if to capture her scent, as if to impress a memory of her. There was something old and unknown about him and he wouldn't be afraid to face it if it didn't stop him from doing the one thing he needed to do: get rid of her, once and for all.</p><p>
  <em>Are you deranged like me?</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Are you strange like me?</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me?</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?</em>
</p><p>He couldn't, he couldn't. The more he wanted to push her away, the more he drew her to him. Surrender to something wasn't contemplated. If someone had asked, he would have denied it, but a plan existed, it had always existed and Katya had no place in it. Now he was desperate to find it for her.</p><p>"And I always thought I hated the idea of feeling... tied up, but that wasn't it. It's just a matter of choice. And I want to belong to you. You have me."</p><p>The wonder of that young woman who knew nothing of the Wonderland crowding his head, and yet just like Alice she was diving head first into the White Rabbit's Lair... Oh that would have been a bad idea. Or the best she could have. The truth was that he liked having her, so he pushed her around again with him in the middle of the empty room, swaying his hips almost imperceptibly with her.</p><p>
  <em>I think there's a flaw in my code</em>
  <br/>
  <em>(Oh, ooh-oh, ooh-oh, oh)</em>
  <br/>
  <em>These voices won't leave me alone</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Well my heart is gold and my hands are cold</em>
</p><p>The music had gotten fainter and the song was ending. The magic was dying. Joker didn't believe in magic. Yet, he too was a human being, somewhere in the back of his mind and in what remained of his heart. For a second he thought he could feel the pulse. He had once had a habit of dreaming too, but he had never imagined Katya in his arms, dancing to a song he didn't know after probably drinking too much whiskey.</p><p>"Jack. My name is Jack" he said and his voice was nothing he had heard lately, it was something from the past. He felt her smile on her cheek. They didn't need to say anything else.</p><p> </p><p>-*-*-*-</p><p> </p><p>That night Katya slept alone, as always, in the upstairs bed. She didn't make any noise, ever. This was perhaps one of the most frustrating things about her: continually trying to suck her soul out of her without ever being able to break it completely, never being able to shape it. Joker should have fun with her, not feel like a moth attracted to her flame. She should have screamed in pain and fear, this was what he expected from Gotham, from all the people of Gotham, but she... she was really different, another side of the coin, something he hadn't foreseen. How far could she have gone without being afraid of him? Oh she should have felt in danger now that she knew something. Joker walked up the stairs to the bedroom, then slowly opened the door, but enough to make it creak. Katya lay there, asleep, wearing only one of her undershirts and a pair of men's underpants she must have found in the closet. His clothes. She wore his clothes. Joker took off his shirt, dropped it to the floor and, making sure he had the knife in her pocket, he climbed onto her bed, onto her. Katya slowly opened her eyes, but he was immediately upon her: one hand covered her mouth, the other squeezed her neck so hard that it choked her voice in her throat. She tried to scream, but no sound came out of her mouth. Joker laughed. "Oh no, hush dear Katy, won't you tell me now that you're scared, hm?" She could barely breathe, but hearing her voice her body relaxed again. Joker was furious: the hand that covered her mouth went to grab her hair with such force that it made her moan in pain. He licked his lips, so close to her ear that he almost touched her. "Did you think I didn't mean to hurt you? But see, doll, there's only one person I trust and, uh, it's not you, it's no one but me" he whispered, and the cold blade of his knife ran down her bare arm. Katya didn't dare move. The tip of her knife began to scratch her skin, but she froze in his hands. "Come on doll, fight me, <em>FIGHT ME</em>!" but she resisted.</p><p>Katya screamed in pain as her eyes filled with tears, but she didn't hit him. "Just... make it nice, Jack" she whispered and a faint smile appeared for a second on her weak lips.</p><p>Joker growled in anger. It wasn't funny anymore, not as he would have imagined it, but it wasn't… <em>not</em> pleasant. On the contrary, having her in his hands, so willing to give herself to him was something he didn't want to experience, but couldn't deny himself: it was an addiction, a drug too sweet for his bitter tongue and disfigured face, but he wasn't famous for his kindness. The blade of his knife ran across her undershirt and cut it, did the same with her panties, then dropped it to the floor. Under her astonished and lucid eyes, Joker frantically pulled off his pants. Flesh to flesh, skin to skin, chest to chest. It was different. Delicious. He sank his lips into her neck, her breasts soft like ripe summer peaches, her thighs young and firm, muscular and flawless. A goddess. Lethal and made for him. Growling and panting, Joker pushed himself inside her. Vaguely he heard her moan, but for the first time his head was... empty. Her legs lifted over his shoulders and he grabbed her hard on her arms, hearing her scream in pain as his bare hand stopped on her wound. There would be bruises on her body, and it would be delightful to see her marked by his own hands. He drilled her with unstoppable force, thrusting his full length inside her, feeling the walls of her pussy squeeze him tight and he felt all those juices around him, so hot and wet.</p><p>"Hurt me, please" Katya whispered desperately and Joker laughed, laughed at her with gusto and with his bare hand hit her thigh hard. Then, with the same force, he slapped her breasts.</p><p>"Fucking masochist, that's who you are. My dirty little bunny" he snarled and thrust again, again and again, fucking her mercilessly, until he began to feel her pussy throbbing around his cock and her voice screaming yes, just like this, and her lips whisper his name: Jack, no one had ever said it like that for him, no one ever with that intense and desperately sweet whisper.</p><p>He came and filled her with warm gushes of cum and let himself go, satisfied, on that hot body beneathe him. He didn't even move to roll away from her. Katya slipped her hands through his hair and, in the silence of the night, they fell asleep.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>(*) "Is she..?"<br/>"Yes, she's the daughter."<br/>"Do you think we can..?"<br/>"Let's wait and see what happens."</p><p> </p><p>Music: Gasoline by Halsey</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>November 2008</strong>
</p><p>Jack had told her to pack, so Katya had taken all his papers, all the maps and loaded all the weapons. The final farewell to their attic: the first light of day came up from behind Gotham's skyscrapers and illuminated everything. Dawn heralded the beginning of a new day, a new journey: Metropolis awaited them and, although the farewell to Gotham was bittersweet, they had fun. Among Joker's notes she had found a bunch of photos: their first photo taken of Batman, the members of the mafia, their polaroid of that pile of money and the Chinese on top of them. Oh, it had been fun.</p><p>Katya is moved by looking at them.<br/>"Are you feeling sentimental, doll?" Jack says when he walks into his office and finds her sitting on the closed trunk with a polaroid in her fingers.</p><p>She nods. "I miss the dogs!" she exclaims and shows him the picture. He bursts out laughing. He thinks that if they get bored in Metropolis he can take her to the zoo and kidnap a couple of hyenas. They would certainly be more fun than a couple of mastiffs.</p><p>"Time to go doll and before..." Joker cuts off. A noise comes from below. They should be alone. How is it possible? It might just be an animal, a stray dog, but the noise continues and thunders up the stairs. There is someone in the attic.</p><p>They exchange a glance: they won't separate right now that they have decided to stay together! Katya holds a machine-gun, Joker has the gun and the knife in his hand. They have to go out, the attic door is the only way in and out. Joker leads the way, Katya has his back.</p><p>Cautiously, they open the door. She leans down towards the stairs, the weapon in her arms and the tip of her in anger, ready to fire, but when that man raises his eyes at her, Katya freezes: <em>Baba Yaga.</em> He's there for her. "Jack" she whispers shaking with fear "run". That's all she can say before she hears John Wick start shooting at them.</p><p>They must meet on the stairs, there is no other choice. They go down quickly, running, leaning against the wall and taking up their weapons, but Katya is shocked and she notices it especially when they find themselves face to face with John. They start fighting without exchanging any words, it doesn't matter for Joker to know why he's there, he just wants to get rid of him, but John is an expert, much more than him. Katya attacks John just before he can shoot Joker in the belly and then in his face, the tactic they taught them in the Ruska Roma. Oh yes, she remembered John Wick. She had seen him fight before he was sold to Tarasov, she had seen him kill a comrade with the elastic taken off his pants. It had been terrifying.</p><p>"Go, J!" she screams, desperately "I'll join you, I promise! Go away!", but he doesn't give up. Katya and John battle it out in a fatal melee, Jack can't shoot, so he grabs his knife and rushes into the fray. He plunges the blade into John's shoulder, wraps his arm around his neck, but he kicks Katya hard enough to tip her to the ground and pushes himself against a wall. Joker bangs his head, everything becomes blurred, Katya is just a silent silhouette poured out on the floor and darkness falls into her confused eyelids. They lost, it's over. It was so funny, too bad it ended so soon... dying away from her is one of the hardest things he has to go through.</p><p> </p><p>-*-*-*-</p><p> </p><p>It is just another bright morning on the other side of the city. A whole day disappeared into thin air as he lay helpless on the floor. Half of the building exploded, a good part of it went up in flames, but Jack managed to crawl out before the crime and passed out in a garbage can. It was necessary. When he woke up he rejoiced that he wasn't hurt, not badly, but then he called Katya's name over and over, never getting an answer. Memories are painfully refreshed. She wasn't there with him when he woke up, that man took her away. Joker starts to laugh, but with anger. Oh, if they want to play with him they've found the right way to do it. He knows where to go. There's only one place they could want her and he... he'd get her back.<br/>He still has his coat with him and therefore all his knives, a few grenades, a little gun in his pants with a couple of shots and he knows he doesn't need anything else. Lev Vinogradov will die and with him his accursed assassin. Nobody can separate Katya from him.</p><p> </p><p>-*-*-*-</p><p> </p><p>Hot. Katya only knows that she feels hot. The light is dazzling, blue and floating around her like an illusion, but she clings tightly to it and something suggests that it's all real. She just has to find the energy to open her eyes. Where is she? The last thing she remembers is... John Wick, in their penthouse, the weapon falling from his hands and a powerful kick in the belly that finally knocks it out.</p><p>Where is Jack? Oh no. <em>Jack</em>.</p><p>The thought of him awakens her with a scream of terror, but her voice stops, drowned out by a piece of thick tissue tightened in her mouth. She's not wearing any pants, there's a long, recently sutured transverse wound on her thigh and it wasn't Jack who medicated her. She doesn't really know where he is, but she starts to sense it: the numbers on the door are eloquent. A door opens, John comes out of the bathroom with a towel around his shoulders and a tired expression on his face.</p><p>"Finally awake, Katya" he comments "I won't hurt you, not until you behave. I promised your father that I would bring you back alive". He approaches. He smell of aftershave and Marseille soap is horrendous, reminds her of the men from Belarus that Lev hosted at his house, the same ones he had dealt with to sell her as if she were a piece of meat. "Now I take the tissue off your mouth, but if you do something stupid I make you regret it." He removes the gag, she seems to breathe again.</p><p>"Ty kusok der'ma! (1)" she swears, angrily "Joker will find you and cut you into small pieces and then stuff the meatloaf. We'll serve you for dinner at the Vinogradov house."</p><p>John smiles and shakes his head. "You have guts, girl, no doubt about it, but your friend is dead. I burned everything when we went out. You have nothing left."</p><p>It's not true. Katya keeps repeating it, it's not true, it can't be. Her broken heart seems to begin to bleed into her chest. "<em>Kill me.</em> Kill me please, I beg you! I don't want to live without him, I can't go home. <strong><em>Kill me!</em></strong>" she cries. She no longer cares about being tied up, she doesn't feel the pain of the wound. Everything hurts. It isn't pleasant this time.</p><p>John doesn't understand: Katya Vinogradov was kidnapped by a dangerous psychopath dressed as a clown, she lived in a dirty industrial building for months, she was covered with marks of violence and cuts, on the left side he had engraved his initial: J, flaming red. She, however, prayed that she would die at the idea of living without him. "Why?" he askes.</p><p>Katya laughs bitterly as tears fill her face, slide down her trembling lips and her voice breaks into a thousand fragments. "Haven't you ever loved, John? Have you ever known someone who had the power to make you feel free? Free to be whoever you want, free from the bond that was imposed on you, free without having to ask to be released. He was my life, John, and you, you took it from me. How much money did he offer you? Five hundred? Maybe a million. Nothing can repay what I have lost... <em>I hate you</em>."</p><p>"Joker held you prisoner" John comments coldly "for all I know also raped you, subjected to his sadistic desire to control."</p><p>"Is that what they told you?" Katya bursts out laughing "That's what my father told you maybe. Or his men, it wouldn't surprise me... Joker never did anything I didn't want... He saved me. Lev told you of having wanted to use me as a bargaining chip with the Chechen?" John stiffens, for a moment, and Katya realizes it quickly enough to understand that she has caught him out: Tarasov doesn't know, he doesn't know that Vinogradov has tried to deceive him. "Your master's money was handed over to the mafia and Lev bought the loyalty and silence of the mafia associations throughout the city, building his empire behind Tarasov. That money is gone, J burned it all. However, I am still alive... And my father is worth nothing without the money from the Mafia and the High Table to fill his coffers. He tried to sell me too, but I didn't give him a chance to succeed. Joker protected me from monsters worse than he was..." Katya finally falls silent. It's too painful to keep explaining: her words die in her throat, choke her voice and she cries silently.</p><p>John almost feels guilty. He knows nothing of her, nor of that love she sings as something real and possible, but he sees her lose the strength to rebel and believes that perhaps there must be a force more powerful than their hands, their fatigue, their guns. It's frustrating not to be able to grasp the meaning: John has had women, fewer than one can imagine, always too busy with work. He knows sex, but that's something else entirely.</p><p>"I'll have to disinfect the wound. Drink this" he says at the end, handing her a glass of bourbon "it will help with the pain." But she rejects him. John moves cautiously with her, as if he were approaching a rabid dog ready to bite, yet Katya has suddenly lost all desire to rebel. He grabs the disinfectant and some clean cotton, kneels in front of her and starts cleaning her. Their skin never touches and John is careful to make her understand that he has no intention of reaching out to her, of taking advantage of it. She cries until the tears fall on her thighs.</p><p>"J was better than you at cleaning wounds" she whispers and her voice is weak, her lips trembling. John wonders if what he did is really the right thing, and this is the first time he has asked himself such a question. Katya Vinogradov should be just a job like any other. But then his gaze falls again on the countless scars that cover her young body.</p><p>"If he hadn't been all those wounds would have become infected and you wouldn't be here talking about it."</p><p>Katya laughs and nods. "Do you want to know how I got them?"</p><p> </p><p>-*-*-*-</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Ten days earlier</strong>
</p><p>The bank robbery had been a blast. Joker had a lot of fun and Katya was sorry not to participate, but the death of all the accomplices was a fundamental requirement and he hadn't yet tired of having her around like a butterfly in love. Joker had left her mostly behind-the-scenes jobs: she had retrieved the bank map and staged the theft of the school bus, she had found out where the mob would be meeting and had been his eyes and ears as he had been busy with Gotham. That would be the Joker's masterpiece, his true legacy to Gotham and Batman. Katya had left him the stage and he knew how to capture the scene. Then came the night of Dent's kidnapping…</p><p>She'd been busy recovering the fragments of genetic material and made sure she poisoned the magistrate's whiskey before evening came. She then she had found out about Dent's location when the Joker wanted to make his entrance on the scene: Bruce Wayne's penthouse. What better place to start the night with some fun?<br/>Joker walked into the attic just before dinner time. The men had gathered on the lower floor, they were only waiting for them. He had prepared himself in the best way possible, the new make-up was perfectly smeared on his crimson scars and his new suit was shiny and clean more than ever. It was an important evening. The idea made him chuckle.</p><p>"Bunny, you're taking too long, you'll make the guests wait" he yelled in the attic, just before he saw her open the door... <em>Holy shit</em>. She was beautiful. He didn't know what kind of dress hers was, but it uncovered one shoulder and one thigh with a dizzying cut on the leg and it was covered in emerald green glitter. It was perfect, perfect for her, she was wearing his colors. Purple lipstick, combined with heels. Good God. "You're resourceful, aren't you?" he whispered thoughtfully. He wanted to take out the knife and tear her apart. He should have carried her among his men of his, those pigs around his small, lethal doll... oh no, no no. Absolutely not. "I can't screw up that delicious makeup, can I? What a pity" he grunted.</p><p>Katya laughed in front of him, hiding one blade of her bra and another in her hair gathered at the back of her neck. Joker grabbed her and took her on the shoulder, lifting her off the ground: she belonged to him, everyone should have understood that. She felt she had won, for once. Jack had been completely taken aback for a fleeting second when he had looked at her and, behind that shiny make-up on her face, he had almost seemed just a man in front of a woman in an emerald green dress. He hadn't talked to her again, but before he got her up on Wayne's attic he had caressed her.</p><p>"Be a good girl and don't get in trouble, hm? Text me when our friend comes and wait for me. We have fun tonight."</p><p>Katya winked at him and went up to the Wayne's attic. It was a splendid evening and she had been projected into that world she had abandoned for months: all that splendid house surrounded by the lights of Gotham, full of the finest people in the city, politicians and corrupt mixed together, disguised in their elegant and precious clothes, it was a memory of a life that no longer belonged to her. Jack was the only person able to keep her still attached to the ground, he was the gravity that pushed her down, to the bottom of the abyss and higher than the stars at the same time.</p><p>One of those men had unwittingly believed himself to be on the same level as him: one of the many politicians of Gotham had approached her, offered her a glass of wine. "What is a beautiful woman like you doing alone on an evening like this?" he had asked, touching her bare shoulder with the tip of her finger. Katya was shivering.</p><p>"What makes you think <em>she's alone</em>?" she had replied. She had “inadvertently” dropped the glass on the dirty pig's shiny black shoes and waited for Dent's arrival. She hadn't had to look for him for long in the crowd: Wayne had made an impressive entrance to him (and if he thought that was a sight he was deeply wrong) and had announced his support for the DA. For him and his... his girlfriend.</p><p>A tasteless young lady, so Katya had judged her, but she must have been wrong because J had seemed of a completely different mind. Beautiful. He had called her beautiful. Joker had walked in with a bang, silenced the room and caught everyone's attention ignoring Katya, even though he walked in front of her, and then turned to that wiman. That dull woman. That nothingness. Katya had sworn to herself that if Rachel Daws wasn't dead by the end of the week she would cut her throat herself and she wouldn't bother to erase her tracks. Then Batman had interrupted them, a great chaos had broken out, people had fled and only they were left in the attic who had had to run quickly and empty-handed. What was supposed to be a great night had turned into a total fiasco, and while Joker found it a lot of fun, Katya hadn't enjoyed it at all.</p><p>They had gone back into the attic. The night was cold, but she was boiling with rage: she threw her shoes on the floor without worrying about it and headed for the stairs without deigning Joker a single word. He was annoyed: after such a night his doll would go away as if nothing had happened, shutting herself in her room like a princess in the castle. Oh no, she couldn't decide what to do on a night like this. He took off his purple coat, left it on the sofa along with her jacket, then took off the waistcoat and suspenders which he let swing by his hips as he climbed the stairs. He clicked his tongue in annoyance when he heard the water running in the bathroom: she hadn't even let him have the pleasure of tearing that beautiful green dress to shreds, oh no no, that wasn't the way to behave. A doll like her should have known good manners by now. He leaned against the wall as he opened the door to the room.</p><p>Katya emerged naked from the bathroom, her hair damp and her makeup loose. "What do you want?" she spat bitterly without giving him a glance. He would have been furious immediately if he hadn't been too tired for games: it was late and he was tired. The evening had been deplorable. Ah! A funny word...</p><p>"Me?" he replied, feigning randomness "Oh, a lot of things. I want Harvey Dent and I want to corrupt the Batman and I want... to know why you're acting like a little <em>bitch</em>, hm? Wouldn't you tell daddy why you're acting like a bitch?" threateningly he pointed his knife at her face, but she was cold as ice and hard as stone.</p><p>"Fuck you, you piece of shit! Go fuck Rachel Daws!" she screamed and disarmed him with a sudden gesture, throwing the knife to the ground.</p><p>The Joker didn't like that gesture. He grabbed her by her neck and threw her against the wall causing her to hit her head until the concrete crumbled on the wall. She gritted her teeth in pain and he pulled a new knife from his pocket.</p><p>"Katy, my little Katy, you know I appreciate your, uh, grit, but you should just stop moaning like a damn dog. You know what happens to dogs that bark too much at the kennel, huh? They get killed." He burst out laughing as he took the blade against her throat, letting it slide down her chest without scratching her, but letting her shake under the cold and merciless blade, clutching her waist in his hands and getting drunk on power hearing her chirp like a chick. She fought to no avail, his hands stronger than those of any man who had ever attempted to grab her. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but that crying had nothing to do with that knife.</p><p>"You called her beautiful, Jack. I'm beautiful, she's just a rich whore lawyer." Katya screamed those words trying to push Joker away from her, but he pressed her even more against the wall, laughing amused.</p><p>"That's it then, my bunny's jealous... but what would have happened if I had screwed Dent's sweet, shy little bride in front of all those beautiful people, hm? What would you have done if I had used her as a ragdoll in front of you?" Katya growled in anger, but he robbed her of all air. He shook his head. "No honey, in your own words. And hurry up, I don't have the whole night to dedicate to you."</p><p>She cried, but as soon as he gave her a breath to talk to again, she spoke: "I'll blow her up and watch her guts fly like fucking firecrackers. I'll set her on fire until she's left only ash."</p><p>Joker burst out laughing. "I like your style, doll. Yes, I think I might as well please you, but in the meantime we would never want this behavior of yours to come back, do we? And what can we do to avoid it? If everyone knew that you're mine you would be more happy, hm?"</p><p>Katya opened her shining eyes and smiled happily, nodded like a child and begged him with her eyes. Yes, she wanted everyone to know. That her father knew, that no one could ever deny that she was free, free and in the hands of the Joker. He smiled, bloody sadistic in front of her, and pointed the knife hard at her heart: his blade cut. A crimson J stuck in her skin as Katya screamed and Joker laughed as they both sank a little deeper into their dark abyss as madness called them by name. Her blood glided thickly on her white skin drawing intricate rivers on her, like a goddess of pain in front of her creator and those streams mixed with her tears and his saliva sucking her neck and he kissed her greedily. Red marks covered her and Joker didn't hold back his grunts at all, his snarls, his anger turned to lust over her. Finally, he grabbed her hair. "On your knees, whore" he ordered her "let's see if you can use that mouth for more useful things than complaining." With one hand, he opened his bloodstained pants and dropped them, freeing his cock, hard as stone and big, taut, thick and throbbing for her. Katya opened her mouth and took a deep breath of air, but before the fresh air could reach her lungs her throat was full of him, her tongue covered in his salty seed, her lips wide open and warm around the head of his cock sliding back and forth mercilessly.</p><p>Joker fucked her mouth as he fucked her pussy: greedily, rougly. Her naked pussy dripped to the floor, wet and moist and Katya couldn't resist the temptation: he continued to watch her as she slipped two fingers inside her, all the way, feeling the soft and warm walls of her little pussy throbbing around herself. It wasn't enough, it never would be, and the pain of the cut was fading, the red letter imprinted on her chest right above her heart was just a distant sting, dominated by the pleasure of that cock deep in her throat: she needed more. Joker knew this. He thrust his cock deep into her mouth one last time, before grabbing her by her hair again.</p><p>"Ah, my little slut, my favorite doll. I know you can do more, baby, right, yes? Yes..." he spat into her mouth, rich and warm, bitter saliva slipped on her tongue and Katya, reduced to nothing more than a dirty doll in his hands, allowed herself to be manipulated, subjected to his strength.</p><p>Jack loved to see her like this: broken, helpless, ready to be cut into a thousand delicious pieces, yet he couldn't find a good reason to get rid of her. She was everything. She was fire, she was gasoline, flames, anger, lust. She was chaos. He loved chaos. He hated the way he loved her.</p><p>Crawling on the bed above her, Joker rolled his body over her and buried her cock again in her mouth: Katya could no longer escape, pushed by his weight against the mattress, surrounded by his musky scent and the metallic scent of blood. Katya was crying, but there wasn't a single part of her that didn't want it, her mouth was a toy at his disposal now, she had finally been branded with his name, now that she finally belonged to someone who had released her anger, who had made sense of her existence, someone who wanted her for who she really was.</p><p>Joker continued to fuck up her throat as he bent over her, his head between her soft thighs and his tongue between the soft lips of her aching pussy: god, she was delicious. Her sweet nectar mixed with her blood, his paint, gunpowder and the smell of gasoline. He was no longer the Joker, he was Satan himself, he was reigning among the damned, he was getting his reward. Something he had never craved, but now he had obtained. A woman who opened her legs for him, a woman he didn't have to take by force, a madwoman who died for him, who suffered for him, his favorite toy, his only drug. Katya came on  his mouth without being able to make a single sound but a strangled moan and he came in her, freeing her throat from that choking, soiling her face with warm cum, spraying his rich seed on her face.</p><p>Joker rolled onto the bed. Side by side, like a matching piece of a puzzle. The silence around them, the heavy breaths, the dust, the blood, the fluids on their bodies and, in the center of the bed, their fingers met. Index against index. A light caress. The only contact they needed to remember that they were part of that world, but they belonged only to themselves. Together: as they wanted to be.</p><p>"Jack?" she whispered. He didn't answer, but she knew he was listening. "Can you clean the wound?"</p><p>He didn't say anything. He rolled to the floor and shuffled to the bathroom. He came back with the medication box and took care of her: his hands were firm, precise, calm. His eyes were clear even if hidden by the black paint. His lips were focused. He whispered little words: hush, he said, just a minute. The disinfectant didn't burn as he slowly stroked the cut, admired its perfect edges, wiped any blood on her with a cloth. Katya wasn't about to interrupt that moment. Even the needle that stitched up the wound didn't hurt when he handled it. The truth was that no intimacy could ever be compared to him who, for a few minutes, forgot he was Joker and went back to being just Jack, just a human being in front of another human being and cleaning up the pain, erasing it with his same hands. That was... <em>love</em>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>(1) You are a piece of shit!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>November 2008</strong>
</p><p>John allowed Katya to lie down on his bed. Her eyes are lost in the void, devoid of lights, already dead. It's a painful sight, one he never expected to see. The girl lets herself be manipulated like an inanimate body, she has stopped fighting. Why? He just can't understand...</p><p>"The Ruska Roma trained you. I saw the tattoos on your back" he comments and she keeps staying asleep, despite her eyes wide open to emptiness. However, she nods. "You could have asked the Director to relocate you" he says, without giving her another look. He'll never admit it, but seeing such a young woman like that makes him feel... dirty and damn useless. A distant voice in his head doesn't want to be silent, keeps repeating that he's the cause of so much misery.</p><p>Katya smiles faintly even though he doesn't notice. "Sure, and become like you. A mercenary. Meat for slaughter."</p><p>"What's the difference? He used you the same way."</p><p>"You're wrong" she states firmly. Her eyes light up with a sick light for the first time, they look at him until it pierces his soul and it hurts more than any bullet. "He gave me something you don't have. A reason to live. Honestly, I don't think you've ever even had one to die. All you have is money."</p><p>Her words are as bitter as gall. Mostly, because she is right.</p><p> </p><p>-*-*-*-</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>A week earlier</strong>
</p><p>A mountain of money. The Joker had left her the tedious task of arranging it, but she had taken a grisly pleasure from all of that: Lau had been a small gift for her, after the excellent work done with Rachel... Oh what a pleasure it had been to deliver to Katya the satisfaction of seeing that woman explode like thousands of confetti in the dark Gotham sky. Katya had been celebrating all night, riding him nonstop, and he had left her the power to do so. He had been watching his amazon as she impaled herself on his hard cock. What a vision. He had to admit that she had done a great job with Lau too. The man was hungry, thirsty, tired, scarred... all sorts of little tortures, not so much to hurt, but enough to break. Joker had thought of hanging him, but she had said it would be a waste of rope. She had have him put up that magnificent pile of bucks.</p><p>"There he is" she had said, inviting Joker to look up. He had burst out laughing like never before, it was a hilarious scene. "Up there with the rest of the garbage" she commented, throwing a bill at the man tied helpless to that chair. "All this money... it makes me sick."</p><p>Joker slowly stroked her cheek, moving a lock of hair behind her ear: his eyes searched for something inside her, a confirmation he would always find. Katya glowed for him and the smell of gasoline around them was intoxicating, powerful and deep in their lungs.</p><p>"The city is mine, Katy" he said, his voice deeper than ever, intense and warm as the fire that would soon burn the entire mafia to ashes. He would free Katya and at the same time take possession of her forever, till the end of her days, all those remained to them. The city was his own, he would send it to fire and sword, he would show the true colors of Gotham.</p><p>She smiled. "I hope these people don't let you down, Jack" she whispered, kissing his neck, smearing her face with a line of white paint. "Whatever happens, I won't let you down." Her tongue slid warm over his bare skin, her teeth gripping the flesh and pinching him, making him tremble for a fleeting moment. She knew how to tease the violin strings in his veins, god, she made his blood boil with lust, desire and... unable to control himself, the Joker pushed her against money, against all that disgusting money. Oh he would give Lau one last precious show and then he would burn him while he still had his hard on in the underwear; the very thought of it made him laugh as he turned Katya against that pyramid of bills, he manhandled her over them and opened her pants tearing her fabric. Nobody should have dared to look at her.</p><p>"You're already soaked, aren't you bunny? Tell me what you want."</p><p>She laughed at her, swaying her hips and offering him her bare ass. "I want you, your cock."</p><p>He leaned over her, grabbed her hair and lifted her face. "He didn't hear you" he whispered into her ear, before grinning again.</p><p>"Please! Joker!" she pleaded, her scream midway between a laugh and a moan as he twirled a finger over her wet clit. Drops of her arousal soaked the money, the floor, the tips of his shoes and he couldn't wait any longer. They had little time, but eternity would soon await them. His hard cock went deep inside her and Katya screamed again, her voice strangled inside her throat that he now held with one hand, while with the other he continued to torture her small, sensitive clit... orgasms denied one after another as he used her for his pleasure. He didn't listen to her pleading or their viewer's disgusted groan, only her instincts. The city would burn like that money, like her soul, like Katya in his hands, like Lau on that mountain of bills, like the ship, like the hospital, like Dent. Fire. Everywhere. Fire in his loins as his balls emptied inside her. Joker groaned loudly. He laughed, seeing Lau cry from above him. He playfully slapped the girl's ass and told her to move into her shadow. "You did a good job, doll. Now be a good girl and enjoy the show in silence."</p><p>Katya snorted, without further complaining but rather disappointed: she wanted to burn everything with him, she didn't like being pushed aside, but Joker was the only protagonist of that show. This was his city, his stage. It was in those few minutes when Katya was hidden in a dark corner of that warehouse that the Chechen entered through the main door, a stupid and mischievous smile on his lips and the men behind him, clutching the leashes of two big black mastiffs, angry and excited.</p><p>"Not so crazy as you look" the Russian commented, smoking his cigar with satisfaction: the bright green of the money filled his greedy eyes and Joker had already begun to feel a deep satisfaction.</p><p>"I told you" he replied "I'm a man of my word. Where's the Italian?"</p><p>But the Chechen said that Maroni wouldn't show up, that they would divide everything between them.</p><p>"Joker man, what you do with all your money?"</p><p>"You see, I'm, a guy of simple taste: I enjoy dynamite, and gunpowder... and gasoline!"</p><p>His men poured out a copious amount of fuel, drowning the money. Katya bit her tongue to keep from laughing as she continued to bask in the wonderful sensation of moist heat between her legs: his semen slipped out of the soft, abused lips of her little cunt. It was delicious, it was torture, but the Joker told her to enjoy her show and she would. Katya slid two fingers on her clit, she began to touch herself while she listened.</p><p>The Chechen was completely speechless, but he could not take a single step towards money. Joker brandishes a pistol at him. "Ah - ta-ta. You know the thing that they have in common? They're cheap." There was no longer a smile on his painted lips, only a deadly seriousness in his eyes, the moment when Katya loved him most. She trembled, his voice piercing her skin, running to her hands and pulsing her sex around her fingers.</p><p>It wasn't enough, it could never be enough without her touch, but at least she could see it, she could feel it. The Chechen felt the need to remind him of their agreement, the word he had said. Joker said he was a man of his word.</p><p>"Oh, I am" he replied "I'm only burning my half." He tossed the cigar on the mountain of money, setting it ablaze. "All you care about is money. This town deserves a better class of criminal, and I'm gonna give it to 'em. Tell your men they work for me now. This is my city."</p><p>Katya bit her lip until she felt the metallic taste of blood on her tongue. God, yes. Jack. His name repeated in her head as all her thighs got dirty with him, with them.</p><p>The Chechen continued to challenge him, as if he had no chance of overcoming him. "They won't work for a freak!" he screamed like a pig.</p><p>Joker replied mocking the Chechen's accent. "Freak... Why don't we cut you up into little pieces and feed you to your pooches? Hm? And then we'll see how loyal a hungry dog really is!" Joker growled and Katya, with her fingers buried inside her and the seed dripping down her legs, came whispering his name between her lips.<br/>"It's not about money ..." he concluded firmly, pulling out her cell phone. There was no time to waste. "It's about ... sending a message. Everything burns!"</p><p> </p><p>-*-*-*-</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>November 2008</strong>
</p><p>Money kept him alive pretty well and what right does John have to complain? He remembers the hunger and the cold in the empty streets of Belgrade, the violence on his skin, his tired limbs in the long and dark winter. The Ruska Roma wasn't the home every child could want, but it had been his home, the only one he had ever known. Now Tarasov is filling him with money to do what he was best at: killing. And who was he to complain? Yet, the more he looks at that girl reduced to a mass of tears and still bones, unable to react, the more difficult it is to believe that she hasn't the slightest reason: Gotham was changing his face, the way he was used to seeing the world. It's morning, but John takes another sip of bourbon: he shouldn't, alcohol slows him down, but god how hard it is to deal with that strange girl.</p><p>"I remember you, Baba Yaga" she whispers at one point, a bitter smile on her lips and her hand touching a pillow, as if trying to figure out if she's really still alive or if that's just hell. "You were at Ruska Roma when Lev first took me there. I remember seeing you fight: you were showing other guys how to move in the circle. You overturned a man twice as wide as you, strangled him with your bare hans. None of us knew that, but in a few days Tarasov would have bought your loyalty and, you know, at that moment, seeing you, I wished with all my heart to become like you, so I would have turned my father upside down just like you did. Ten years ago I wanted to be like you and today you want to be like me."</p><p>John shakes his head, none of those words make sense. Now he seems to remember seeing the little girl, that little girl, her hair cut short like a boy because she refused to dance, screaming, kicking and punching like a feral cat. But he would never have thought that she would become... that. "I don't want to be like you. You are a terrorist.</p><p>Katya laughs, bursts out laughing like a mad woman and the tears in the corners of her eyes are just the result of the hilarity of the situation. "Terrorist? No, no, no John, but don't you realize? There's nothing and nobody in town but us. Joker has taken over Gotham, he's... the god of this town. He can save it, he can destroy it. But the truth is that Gotham doesn't deserve him, nobody deserves him. Nobody understands..."</p><p>John sighs. It is impossible to get inside that girl's head and he has never felt more exposed than in that moment. Her words undress him, make him more vulnerable than his forehead in front of a loaded gun, his bare neck against the blade of a knife. "Joker is dead, Katya. You better get used to it."</p><p>She shakes her head, wipes her face on her sheets. "He is not dead. He lives rent-free in my heart." Her hand rests on her chest, over her breast, over her signature. "You don't want to be a terrorist John, but you want to be loved. And I was, loved."</p><p>The sound of heavy footsteps on that floor interrupts their strange conversation: Katya immediately recognizes her icy father's voice, the Russian accent and his apprehensive step towards the room. The manager must have shown them the room without notifying John. Katya closes her eyes, awaits her fate: her days in that world won't be many. If Jack is truly dead there's no point in staying alive. If there's only one chance to see him in hell again, she's not going to waste it.</p><p>They knock on the door four times. "Mr. Wick, I'm here for Katya" that's Lev's voice, recognizable as that of a boar in a pigsty. John glances at Katya: he would have expected to see her fight, to scream obscenities, to see her mad with rage and pain, wild as a mare in heat, but no. She is firm, apathetic, surrendered. She is heartbreaking. He doesn't know that girl and yet he sees her like this, knowing what he has discovered... John perhaps should deliver Vinogradov to Tarasov without thinking so much, but then he would pay the consequences. It is true, however, that the Chechen has disappeared, the money was burned and if it weren't for Vinogradov he wouldn't even get that million to return to Tarasov and the High Table. Lev insists. "I have your money, Mr. Wick, but if you don't open and hand me Katya I swear I'll make you go through the same bad end that the Chechen did. I know she's with you."</p><p>John sighs and opens the door. Lev Vinogradov is accompanied by two men in black balaclavas, bulletproof vests and Kalashnikovs in their hands. John knows this is not a threat, but a precaution. He is, after all, the big bad wolf.</p><p>Vinogradov glances at his daughter lying on the bed, curled up on the mattress in a fetal position like a helpless larva, dull and empty of all emotion. "You managed to tame her" he comments with a wicked smile on his thin, dry lips. One of the men throws a bag in front of him, a bag full of cash. "A million, for my daughter alive."</p><p>John lowers his gaze, leans his back on the floor towards that money bag that now seems stuffed with nothing but shit, a second before he hears a strange noise that he recognizes. One of the two mercenaries falls to the ground, slaughtered. A pool of blood spreads around Vinogradov's shoes who, not knowing what is happening and taken aback, turns to his second man. But that one hits him hard with the handle of the gun in the jaw before he can speak, and when that subspecies of orc falls to the ground losing consciousness, the man throws the gun at Katya. Then that same man lunges at him with an unstoppable fury.</p><p>He hits him on the cheekbone, his punch is strong but uncoordinated and when John takes a step back the man taps his foot hard on the floor: his shoe is weird. And it's odd that no one ever really pays attention to shoes. A small blade comes out of the tip and John is confused. Who is that man? Why is he doing that? He knows he will die against him. John ignores Katya who, in the meantime, has risen and holds the rifle with determination without knowing who to shoot. She could risk hitting them both, she could run away with the money and be free, but she hesitates as a panic draws on her face and the two men fight, bleed, trade endless blows until... Lev, lying on the floor, groans in pain: half of his face is stained with the blood of another man, his jaw is crumbled and he cannot speak, but his eyes are open. Open enough to understand that his daughter is approaching him, with a Kalashnikov in her hands, a mad and murderous look on her face and... a smile. He doesn't say anything before he dies, he doesn't even try, it would be useless. John and the masked man stop when Katya raises the weapon at them. She, in particular, looks at John.</p><p>"What I'm holding is an assault rifle designed in the Soviet Union, it has a range of more than 600 meters and a firing rate of 600 rounds per minute. The first versions of the weapon used 7.62 by 39mm bullets, with a sprint speed of 715 meters per second. I swear to God that if you just try to blink I will pierce your stomach until you roll in your own guts" Katya speaks with deadly firmness and John is defeated.</p><p>He lost that battle, there's nothing to be done. He sighs. It seems that surrendering to death is more difficult than imagined for all of them. Especially for the man behind him, who like a cursed devil risen from his ashes raises his balaclava and clicks his tongue with disappointment. "<em>Boring</em>" he comments, before taking off those dark clothes and showing off the purple hexagon shirt, and green and white suspenders again. "Hi doll" Joker says, stowing the knives in his pockets.</p><p>Her eyes fill with tears of joy, even though she never lowers the gun. "I knew you weren't dead" she whispers with pride, deep relief and joy. That joy that gives it back the light. That joy that John doesn't know. "How did you..?"</p><p>"<em>Dead?</em> No. No, no, I couldn't leave you all alone in this town. Who knows what you could start doing to avoid getting bored. Do you really want to stay here and discuss <em>how</em> and <em>why</em> I'm here?" he laughs, approaches her and kisses her neck, bites it with his pointed canines and then slides his lips towards her ear. "Are you okay, baby doll? Did he hurt you?" he asks softly, but she smiles, says everything is ok. He nods and pulls away. He gestures to John, suggests she finish the job.</p><p>John closes his eyes, snorts. Is this really how it has to end? Struck by the unpredictability of a couple of psychopaths on the road. It almost makes him laugh. Even him now almost feels like laughing. But Katya refuses. Joker looks at her like he's going to tear her apart, John looks at her like he suddenly wants to scream but what the fuck is going on here? as she lets go of the gun. She grabs the bag from the floor and throws the money at him. John grabs them. "Go back to your master, you <em>slave</em>. You will never know what that means."</p><p>It's the hardest and most lousy truth John has ever faced and he realizes it when the Joker grabs Katya's hand and takes her away from there, lifts her onto his shoulder and gives her a playful pat on her ass as he takes her away. They laugh when they get into the elevator. Until a few minutes before, that young woman just wanted to die and now that he had returned to her as a fucking knight in shining armor, she was living again. Magic. A sick, strange, unhealthy magic that keeps them alive, eternally. John feels lost. He looks at the money and it makes him sick.</p><p>Finally, it is time to go back to New York. Katya and Joker have disappeared, the director of the Continental confides to him that they left with Vinogradov's car parked outside the hotel and no one knows where they went, but they left the city quickly and without looking back. John wonders why no one has tried to stop them, but then he realizes that he's just one of the many who let them escape. A real bolt for freedom, towards horizons that belong to no one but the two of them. When John leaves the hotel, leaving behind him a new streak of blood, il starts to rain: the water floods the whole city, finally purifies it after so many days of unprecedented violence. John closes the bag with the money he'll give to Tarasov in the trunk of the taxi and lets the freezing rain fall on his face. He is tired. He is alone. Across the street there's a woman stopped at the bus stop trying to cover her head with a newspaper and looking around her, bewildered. She has beautiful black hair, heels dipped in a puddle and she hugs her raincoat trying to protect herself from the cold. She's the most human vision he has ever paid attention to; he asks the driver to wait and his feet start moving before he knows what he's doing.</p><p>"Hello" he greets her with a shy smile that he doesn't know where it might come from. His voice, for once, seems reassuring. "You need help?"</p><p>She smiles beautifully. "Oh, I'm afraid not. I'm waiting for the next bus to New York and I suppose you can't do anything about the rain."</p><p>"No, I can't stop the rain, but I can offer a ride. I'm on my way to New York too. That's my cab."</p><p>The woman watches and listens, a little hesitant, but John is polite. He tells her to notify a friend or family, that he'll pay for the ride and it will be a pleasure to accompany her. So in the end she nods. John helps her with the bag and opens the door for her. They shake hands before leaving.</p><p>"Thanks for this, you're my savior. By the way, my name is Helen."</p><p>He smiles. <em>Helen</em>. What a beautiful name. "I'm John."</p><p>They leave, Gotham disappears behind them.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
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</p><p>This amazing work was made by @playddumb for this fanfiction, find them on Tumblr for commissions. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Did you like it? Let me know 💚💜💚💜<br/>Leave kudos &amp; comments<br/>Find me on Tumblr: @dionysus-lover-ao3<br/>Be safe &amp; thank you for reading.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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